Second Chances
by WatchingTheWatchman
Summary: Shunsui's always had a soft spot for the broken ones. But, when he heals Starrk after the battle with Aizen, that soft spot threatens to get him in more trouble than he ever dreamed. Yaoi.
1. Trickster's Choice

**Chapter 1: Trickster's Choice  
**

Every culture in the mundane world had its tricksters.

From Coyote and Iktomi the Spider of Native American mythology to the kitsune spirits of Japanese folklore, their fingerprints could be found scattered throughout the pages of history. They waltzed onto the stage, created chaos, and then left as capriciously as they arrived. Alternately celebrated and reviled, they had one thing in common: they all loved playing games.

Sometimes, Shunsui wondered if Katen Kyokotsu was a manifestation of a trickster spirit.

She played her volatile games with an arrogant disregard for the survival of her wielder, and never failed to extract a price in payment for her power. Shunsui fought every battle on two fronts: one against the enemy in front of him, and one against the zanpakuto within his grasp. When she won, as she often did – she controlled the rules of the game – he never knew what she would demand.

He also often wondered what he'd done to deserve such a mercurial zanpakuto.

This was certainly one of those times. The flamboyant captain leaned heavily on the shattered remains of a wall, surveying the remnants of the fake town with a heavy heart. Word had returned hours ago that Ichigo had defeated Aizen, but no one was celebrating. Far too much blood had been spilt for that.

Members of the Fourth scurried like ants through the rubble, bringing healing to the gravely wounded soul reapers. Unohana serenely directed the chaos into a semblance of organization. Her zanpakuto Minazuki had gathered the most damaged shinigami into a makeshift hospital tent in an open square, where they lay in silent rows. Young Hitsugaya was there, next to the crumpled form of Aizen's former lieutenant Momo. Both hovered on the brink of death. Hiyori, nearly bisected by Aizen's blade, was in the same state, as were many others.

Shunsui looked down. _Was it worth it?_ he asked himself silently. _How many will die because of our plan?_ He, Juushiro, and Yamamoto had created the strategy for the battle, hoping to minimize bloodshed and diminish Aizen's power. They had failed miserably at both goals. _And now half of our combatants may die within the hour, and the other half will bear the scars for the rest of their lives_. No one had escaped injury.

Shunsui felt his heart clench as he stared at the hastily erected tent. "Juushiro, were we too overconfident?" he asked aloud, though his best friend was nowhere to be seen. He lay in the infirmary tent as well, with a gaping hole through his ribcage. _Could we have acted differently?_ The question circled unceasingly through his mind. _Could we have prevented some of this pain?_ He was far too cynical to believe that it could have been avoided entirely. But surely some of the bloodshed was unnecessary. He clenched his fists. _Juushiro, why aren't you here with me?_ he asked mournfully. _You're always so good at answering these sorts of questions_. But his best friend didn't answer; he might never answer again. _Could I have saved you, at least?_

Unexpectedly, Katen Kyokotsu answered. _No_, she said soberly. _But there's someone else you can save_.

Shunsui froze. _What do you mean?_ he asked cautiously. Was this her price for this battle? If so, it was an unusual price. Her whims tended to be more cruel.

She laughed without humor; the sound echoed through his inner world like the tolling of a bell. _You know better than to ask that_, she reprimanded him. _But there is someone who does not deserve to die today, who will if you do not act_. She sent him a reiatsu signature, tantalizingly familiar, and he frowned. _Trace that_, she ordered imperiously before he could argue. Shunsui sighed, and did as she commanded.

When he dropped out of shunpo next to the battered form of the first espada, he wasn't surprised.

Starrk's signature had changed when Lilynette's wolves fell, but it still retained the eerie mingling of hollow and shinigami power. The espada lay in a crumpled heap, surrounded by a sticky crimson pool drying in the afternoon sun. The teeth of the bone collar encircling his neck were stained scarlet, as if his own power was devouring him whole. Shattered fragments of his zanpakuto dusted the rubble around his body. If not for the hole just below his collarbone, he would have been easily mistaken for an injured shinigami – the expression on his face was very human.

_He's very close to death_, Shunsui realized dispassionately. No soul reaper could lose that much blood and survive. Apparently the same was true for an espada. Only flickers of reiatsu proved that he was still alive, and those were fading rapidly.

_Heal him_, Katen Kyokotsu said softly. Not quite a request, but not a demand either.

"No," Shunsui said aloud. "There is no point. Either he dies now, or is executed later." He disliked the idea of causing such unnecessary pain on principle, especially to someone like Starrk. _He doesn't deserve such pointless suffering_. It was an odd sentiment to feel about an opponent, but he had seen the look of anguish on Starrk's face when Shunsui's whirlwind blasted through Lilynette's wolves. _And besides, causing pain purely for the sake of causing pain is something only Mayuri does_.

He had thought that the espada was unconscious. But Starrk stirred weakly at his words, opening stormy gray eyes. "Lilynette?" he murmured dazedly. "Lily?" His hands groped feebly at his sides, closing again and again on empty air. The sheer desperation in the repetition made Shunsui shiver. Then his eyes fastened on the battered captain. "Come to finish the job, shinigami?" he asked harshly. Coughs wracked his body, splattering blood on his lips. "Don't worry, I'm already dying." His eyes slid closed. "Alone," he added softly, an ocean of despair in the words.

Shunsui shifted uncomfortably. He could tell that Starrk hadn't meant for him to hear the final sentence. Moved by some impulse he didn't understand, he knelt by Starrk's side. "You're not alone," he murmured gently.

Starrk cracked an eye open, then let it fall shut again. "Just kill me, shinigami," he mumbled wearily. "Save the platitudes for someone who cares."

_Save him_, Katen Kyokotsu urged. She paused, then added reluctantly, _Please_.

Shunsui eyed his sword with astonishment. She never begged for anything, and her last word sounded perilously close to just that.

_Why?_ Shunsui asked silently. _Why does he matter so much?_

Katen Kyokotsu sighed. _Because I have tasted his blood, and he does not deserve death_, she replied soberly. _And I am tired of killing. We have too many stains on our blades_.

Shunsui winced at the heartache in her tone, which never held anything but sardonic amusement. Slipping into his inner world, he found himself face to face with the elaborately costumed form of the larger blade. She favored him with a sly smile. "Surprised that we are tired of death?" she asked archly. "Yes, even a zanpakuto spirit can grow sick of killing. But then, you're weary of the constant bloodshed as well." The slender, black-clad girl lounging against the wall nodded in silent agreement.

Shunsui looked around. She had chosen to meet him in a part of his inner world that he preferred to avoid under normal circumstances. _But then, these are hardly ordinary times_. They stood in a chilly, cavernous hall, barren of furniture and built from dark, ancient wood. The walls, which stretched on as far as the eye could see, were decorated with portraits every few feet. The ones closest to him were new, with bright colors and shiny frames, while farther down the hall, the portraits grew older, with cracked paint and tarnished frames. But Shunsui could still recognize every face. That would never change.

"Do you want Starrk's picture to end up here too?" Katen Kyokotsu asked sharply. "There's a place waiting if you do."

Shunsui didn't turn around. He knew she was right. If Starrk died, his image would join the hundreds of others in this hall, another face for Shunsui to remember. Some of those pictured here, he had killed. Others, he hadn't, but he still felt responsible for their deaths. They were the faces that haunted him in his nightmares and drove him to drink to dispel their icy presence from his mind. The alcohol blurred his memory, but he could never forget them entirely.

Starrk had been an honorable opponent. In another world, they could have been friends, despite their differences. He would deserve a memorial here.

Shunsui didn't realize that he had said the last sentence out loud until Katen Kyokotsu spoke. "He doesn't need a memorial if he doesn't die," she pointed out. "But you have to choose now." She propped her hands on her hips, glaring at him with the eye not covered with her eyepatch. "Heal him."

With a frustrated groan, Shunsui pulled himself back out of his inner world. The entire conversation had only taken a few seconds, but Starrk's reiatsu had grown perceptibly weaker. Gore saturated his white jacket and soaked through the knees of Shunsui's hakama. The flamboyant captain couldn't look away from the gash from Katen Kyokotsu's blade, which started at Starrk's hollow hole and ended under his ribs.

The primera espada had lapsed into unconsciousness again. He curled around the hilt of his zanpakuto like a child clutching a teddy bear, looking frail and forlorn in Shunsui's eyes. The captain sighed. He couldn't leave Starrk like this. Reaching out, he brushed a sweat-soaked curl of brown hair off of the espada's forehead. "Starrk?" he murmured. "Wake up."

"Damn it, shinigami," Starrk mumbled wearily. "Just kill me already." Despair and hopelessness laced his tone with heartbreaking pain.

Shunsui flinched. "No," he said firmly. Gathering kido into his hands, he sent healing magic coursing through Starrk's body. The espada bolted upright like he'd been electrocuted. Shunsui urged him back down with a hand on his shoulder, keeping his other hand pressed firmly against the wound. Starrk fought the restraint weakly, until a too-sudden movement plunged Shunsui's hand into his broken hollow hole. He stiffened, hissed a breathless whine of agony, and lay still after that. Shunsui regarded his slime-covered hand ruefully, but kept the healing energy flowing.

When Starrk stopped fighting, his body eagerly accepted the kido. Rapid regeneration drew the gaping wound together as muscle and bone grew to fill the gap. Shunsui couldn't have healed a shinigami of a similar wound – he lacked the skill, the knowledge, and the control. But with Starrk, none of that mattered. His body drank in the energy the way a desert soaked up rain, greedily absorbing every drop of power that Shunsui could give him.

The flamboyant captain swayed dizzily as the healing forced him to draw deeply on his last reserves, searching for any bit of energy he could find. Katen Kyokotsu fed him power from her own wellsprings when he faltered. _I hope this is worth it_, he thought ruefully, _for I'll be pretty useless after this_.

At last the espada gasped and sat up with a jerk. Pale new skin covered his abdomen, with only a faint white line remaining as evidence of Katen Kyokotsu's strike. "Why?" he demanded hoarsely, his stormy blue eyes locking into Shunsui's grey ones. "Why?" A universe of loneliness and despair imbued his tone with enough anguish to make Shunsui's throat tighten.

The exhausted captain ran his fingers down Katen Kyokotsu's blade. "Because she told me that you didn't deserve to die."


	2. A New Beginning

**Chapter 2: A New Beginning**

Starrk shook his head in confusion. "I… I don't understand." He stared blankly down at the hilt of his zanpakuto, still clenched in his hand. "Lilynette?" The murmured question held little hope, just aching sorrow.

Shunsui laid a gentle hand on Starrk's shoulder. The espada looked up at him desperately, both hands clutching the hilt like a lifeline. Shunsui shook his head. "I'm afraid she's gone," he murmured.

Starrk's shoulders crumpled and he turned his head away. Shunsui caught a glimpse of a shimmering tear tracing a slow trail down the espada's cheek before he buried his head in his arms.

_I didn't know arrancar could cry_, Shunsui thought in bemusement. _I didn't think they could feel sorrow_. The primera espada showed no sign of his immense power now, curled up with his knees pressed to his chest like a scared child. Only the yawning void of his reiatsu hinted at his incredible strength.

_You should have figured that out already_, Katen Kyokotsu commented acidly. _Or did you not see the way he looked when my tornado blew his wolves away?_

Shunsui glared halfheartedly at his zanpakuto. _Thank you, milady_, he returned dryly. _ I didn't really need you to remind me that it's our fault Lilynette is dead_. He could remember that perfectly well on his own, and the knowledge filled him with mixed emotions. He couldn't regret it; in battle, it was kill or be killed. His coldly practical side knew that destroying the wolves had been essential to defeating Starrk, and he had taken the opportunity that presented itself.

But he also couldn't regard Starrk as an enemy anymore. Not after healing him. So seeing his raw anguish tugged uneasily at Shunsui's heartstrings. He reached out, hesitated, then patted Starrk's shoulder, expecting the espada to lash out. But Starrk didn't move. "Shinigami?" he muttered.

"Call me Shunsui."

Starrk barked a harsh laugh. Lifting his head, he stared intently at Shunsui. "So tell me, Shunsui, why you healed me." It wasn't a question.

Shunsui ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair with a frown. He desperately needed a shower – it felt like grime was embedded in his skin. A large part of that was Starrk's blood, too, which made Shunsui grimace. "I don't know," he replied at last. He shrugged, studying Starrk's stormy eyes with curiosity. "Like I said, she wanted me to," he added, touching Katen Kyokotsu's hilt. Starrk tensed when he did so, and he quickly lifted his hand.

"I don't understand." Starrk bit his lower lip.

Shunsui chuckled. "I don't either. But when she gets into one of her moods, there's nothing to do but obey."

Starrk's smile was full of sorrow. "Lilynette would get like that," he murmured. He shook his head, and Shunsui felt the sudden irrational urge to brush the espada's wavy brown hair out of his eyes. He firmly folded his hands in his lap, and Starrk continued, "Usually when I wanted to sleep, and she wanted to play." He gazed into the distance, eyes soft, and whispered, "She never knew how to be patient." His eyes snapped back to Shunsui's. "Have you ever lost someone you loved, captain?"

Shunsui swallowed hard. A vision of Juushiro's crumpled body falling from the sky flashed in front of his eyes. _He's not dead_, he reminded himself forcefully. _Retsu-senpai will save him_. But a tiny part of his mind still doubted.

Pushing the nebulous fears away, Shunsui forced himself to meet Starrk's piercing gaze. "I have," he replied quietly. "But then, I've lived for a very long time." His portrait gallery was proof of that.

Starrk bowed his head. "So have I," he whispered. "But Lilynette is the only one I've ever cared about." His mouth twisted. "Everyone else who got near us died." His tone was bitter.

Shunsui looked at him in puzzlement, and the espada snorted. Without lifting his eyes from the ground, he explained sardonically, "Our spiritual pressure was strong enough to devour the lesser hollows who got near us. Aizen-_sama_," he emphasized the honorific resentfully, "promised us companions, strong enough to withstand the pressure, if we joined with him." He glanced up at Shunsui, then looked away. "I suppose he fulfilled that promise, in a way, but…" Starrk trailed off, stormy eyes darkening.

"But you never had friends?" Shunsui guessed.

Starrk shrugged. "The other espada, well," he sighed, "Let's just say we didn't get along very well." His hand tightened on the hilt of his zanpakuto, and he added bitterly, "And now they're all dead, because of his delusions of grandeur."

"So why did you stay and fight?" Shunsui asked before he could think twice. He shifted position so he wasn't kneeling in a puddle of blood, though he could feel the sticky wetness soaking through his hakama. "Why not leave?"

"And go where?" Starrk asked, anger grating in his voice. "Back to the shifting sands and the endless night? At least in Las Noches there were others around. There was the hope of alleviating the loneliness, at least. In the barren desert, there was nothing but piles of bones." He ran his fingers over the hilt of his zanpakuto, then traced the jagged edges of the shattered blade with his fingertips. "Lilynette didn't want to go back to that. Neither did I."

Shunsui bit his lip as he regarded the espada's hunched form soberly. _So where will you go now?_ _Aizen is imprisoned, the other espada are dead or have fled, and Las Noches will be no more than a ghost town. Will you return to the desert then?_ He hadn't thought of the question when he had poured the healing energy into Starrk, and it made something inside him ache. _Did healing you condemn you to a living death?_ Another question trailed hard on the heels of that one, inescapable. _Would you have preferred to die in truth?_

For there were times when death was a blessing. Shunsui knew that, better than almost anyone. There were times when life seemed unbearable – when each sunrise brought fresh pain instead of joy, and an hour seemed to last forever. _When you have nothing left to live for, and no reason to continue_. Suicide was not an uncommon occurrence among the older shinigami. Faced with an eternity of battle, without the hope of peace or surcease, some chose to take their own lives rather than lose their souls to the grim, never-ending war. Shunsui couldn't blame them. _If not for Juushiro, I may have followed that path_.

But Starrk didn't have anyone to stand at his side like that. Not anymore.

A sudden spike in reiatsu in the distance brought him out of his musings. Starrk's head snapped up, eyes narrowing, and Shunsui could feel his sudden alertness. "Easy," he murmured. "That felt like Captain Unohana, captain of the fourth. She's a healer, not a fighter." More precisely, it had felt like Unohana's power mingled with Hitsugaya's reiatsu, which gave Shunsui a brief surge of hope. Hitsugaya had been one of the shinigami on the brink of death; if Unohana could heal him, the causalities may not be as bad as he had feared.

Starrk lifted an eyebrow at him at he rose to his feet. "Taicho, I may be weakened, but I'm not stupid. All of your captains are dangerous, and that energy tasted of ice and snow, not only healing magic." He tugged at the ragged, bloodstained remains of his jacket irritably, trying to pull them into some sort of order, before grimacing and yanking the fabric off.

Shunsui rose as well. "I should have known you could sense that," he replied, in a tone that was not quite apologetic. "But still, there's no danger." He tapped the hilt of Katen Kyokotsu's larger blade absently as he continued, "Everyone is focused on healing the wounded, not on tracking down possible survivors."

"Not everyone," Starrk pointed out.

Shunsui nodded his head in a fencer's salute, acknowledging the point. "Touché. Still, I doubt anyone will be coming by anytime soon to check on me."

A number of emotions flashed over Starrk's face too quickly for Shunsui to decipher. His eyes hardened as he asked, "And what would they think if they did? Would they treat you as a traitor as well, taicho, for healing me?"

Shunsui shrugged nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of treason." _It wouldn't even be the first time this year_. Katen Kyokotsu snickered in the back of his mind as he imagined Yamamoto's face if he ever learned that Shunsui had healed the espada he had defeated only hours earlier. _Oh, old man Yama would be livid_, he thought to himself with amusement.

Some of that must have shown on his face, for Starrk asked, "Do you get pleasure out of tweaking your superiors' tails like that, then?"

He lifted one shoulder in another shrug. "Sometimes they need to be shaken up a bit." Though he really would prefer to avoid another confrontation with the old man, when he thought about it a bit harder. _Being yelled at is one thing; I'm sure I'll get a lecture simply for losing my haori. But facing that inferno is another thing entirely_. He still had nightmares about that overwhelming power cascading over him, stealing the breath from Nanao and driving her to her knees with a look of shock. _Yes, I really don't want to go through that again_.

"Being accused of treason is not my definition of 'shaking things up.'" Starrk's tone was as dry as his former desert home.

"It's not treason if you don't decide to attack us," Shunsui answered cheerfully. "I trust you don't have some harebrained scheme in mind to get revenge?"

He concealed a little flicker of panic as Starrk paused, head tilted to the side. _Katen Kyokotsu, you may have made me make a major mistake_, he snapped at his zanpakuto. If Starrk decided to take on the Gotei 13, Shunsui would be in major hot water for healing him. A raspy chuckle was his only answer.

To his relief, the primera espada shook his head. "After facing you, I believe that any such scheme would only end with my death." His eyes flickered closed, and Shunsui wondered if he was considering it anyway, purely for that reason. _I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to die, but there are better ways to go about it_, he told Starrk silently. _Suicide by captain is messy_. But when Starrk opened his eyes again, the despair lurking in their depths had been contained. "No, I won't attack the shinigami to get revenge for Aizen." His mouth twisted. "I saw what he did to Harribel, after all. He doesn't deserve my loyalty after that."

"How did you see that?" Shunsui asked, puzzled. "You had already fallen when he turned on her." The move had shocked everyone on the battlefield. It still made no sense to Shunsui, who couldn't conceive of throwing away your allies simply because you felt disappointed in them. _But he did the same thing to Tosen when he fell_. Shunsui shook his head. _Aizen was truly insane_.

Starrk snorted. "I was dying, not dead. And she was my friend. I felt the reiatsu explosion when he stabbed her, and that dragged me back to consciousness long enough to see his blade dripping with her blood, and her body falling from the sky." His shoulders tightened.

Shunsui winced. "I'm sorry," he offered, not knowing what else to say. The bitter taste of betrayal had become an all-too-familiar companion in recent months, so he knew – oh, he knew – how Starrk must be feeling. _Watching a man you respected, a man you thought you could trust, turn on your comrades like that? That wound never heals completely_.

Starrk shook his head in firm negation. "Aizen should be sorry." He took a deep breath, then asked, "Can you tell me what happened to him? I assume, since you're all still living, that you won in the end."

Shunsui paused. _Can I tell him anything?_ he wondered. _He is still the enemy, after all, no matter how friendly he seems. But I don't see how giving him the information can hurt_. He heaved a sigh. "Ichigo Kurosaki defeated him. According to reports, he's been imprisoned and has lost the Hogyoku. There will probably be a trial once everything settles down."

"Ichigo… that kid with spiky orange hair and anger issues, right?" Starrk asked.

Shunsui chuckled. "That's a pretty accurate description."

"So he defeated Aizen," Starrk mused. "He must have gotten stronger then; the last time I saw him, he didn't have the power to defeat Ulquiorra, much less Aizen." He glanced over at Shunsui. "Ulquiorra was ranked fourth among the espada, and represented emptiness. I suspect he's dead now."

"Why's that?"

Starrk sighed. "He was assigned to guard the girl we captured. And I can feel her spiritual pressure here. He wouldn't have abandoned his duty."

Shunsui didn't know what to say to that, either. Starrk's matter-of-fact tone betrayed no hint of sorrow or regret, but his features had hardened into an impenetrable mask. "Was he a friend of yours?" he ventured. He wondered if he was risking a punch for impertinence, but Starrk didn't seem the type to lash out like that.

The espada's shoulders slumped. "No, he wasn't. But he might have been, in a different world." He didn't say any more, and Shunsui let the subject drop.

They stood there in awkward silence for a long moment, until another spike of reiatsu blasted through the air. Starrk shifted his weight, looking anywhere but Shunsui, as the power died down. "Well… I guess I should go," he murmured, an odd note in his tone. He wiped his hands on his white hakama, leaving more crimson smears on the gore-stained fabric.

Shunsui's eyes followed the motion, then drifted up to the circular hole at the base of Starrk's neck, right below the mask of bloody teeth. _Such a small difference, to cause such strife_. _We call you evil, you arrancar, but I'm not sure that's true. You talk like us, bleed like us, die like us – are you really that different?_ Though he had destroyed thousands of hollows, most of them had been true monsters, unable to reason or care. The arrancar were different. _Some of you might be evil, but some of us are as well_. Aizen was a prime example of that. _ If not for him, would any of this conflict have been necessary?_ It was an unanswerable question.

"Where will you go?" Shunsui murmured.

Starrk shrugged, carefully nonchalant. "Back to Hueco Mundo. It's the only place left for my kind." A trace of bitterness threaded through his words, and Shunsui shuddered. The bleak sands of that midnight world didn't suit the man in front of him, whose stormy grey eyes reflected the same sort of sorrow Shunsui held in his own heart.

"And then what?" Starrk looked at him in shock, and Shunsui offered him a twisted smile. "Will you wander the desert, searching for companions strong enough to bear your spiritual pressure?" he elaborated. "Or will you simply give up, and let your spirit be taken by the shifting sands?" Strong enough shinigami could will themselves to death, if they couldn't bear to live any longer. He suspected the same was true of arrancar.

Starrk bared his teeth in a humorless grin. "Why do you care, shinigami?"

"Well, I went to all the trouble to save you." Shunsui shrugged. "I'd hate for that to go to waste."

For a moment, as Starrk's reiatsu rose, he wondered if he had just made a fatal blunder. Then the espada relaxed and snorted. "If I want to die, I'll challenge you again, how's that?"

Shunsui winced. "Okay, I deserved that."

Starrk's smile was crooked but genuine. "Yes, you did." His expression grew distant, and he turned to survey the rubble of the fake town. "Maybe I'll find somewhere remote in the living world, and stay there for a while. It's good to see the sun again."

Shunsui took a step forward, so he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the espada. They were almost the same height, he noted absently. Katen Kyokotsu muttered something snarky at his observation, but he ignored her. "You know, there's another option."

Starrk turned his head and regarded the captain skeptically. "Yeah?"

Shunsui took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "If you desire company," he began, "the living world will not suffice for very long. Nor will Hueco Mundo satisfy that urge." Starrk lifted an eyebrow as Shunsui continued, "However, if you swear that you come in peace, Soul Society could use your talents." From the depths of his mind, Katen Kyokotsu murmured approval. Shunsui wasn't sure why he made the offer, except that he disliked the idea of condemning the espada to a life forever alone. _I healed him; might as well go all the way_, he thought ruefully.

The primera espada laughed out loud at that. "I doubt your head captain will welcome an arrancar with open arms, no matter what you say."

_He's right about that_, Katen Kyokotsu pointed out. Shunsui rolled his eyes. "So the old man might not be too happy with me. He'll come around." _Or he won't, in which case I'll figure something else out_. Admittedly, if Yamamoto decided that Shunsui's actions had been treasonous, there would be very little he could do.

"I don't think I'll risk it," Starrk said, the corners of his mouth quirking as he hid a smile. "Not unless I do get bored of living, at any rate."

"At least come visit," Shunsui urged. Much to his surprise, he found that he enjoyed the primera espada's company. Starrk had a sense of humor similar to his own, and he would enjoy getting to know him. "Just… don't appear in front of too many people."

Starrk rolled his eyes. "Taicho – Shunsui – you can be as reckless as Lilynette is." His expression blanked for a moment, before he forced a smile again. "But I'll consider it."

Shunsui grinned. "Wonderful!" _I'll deal with the eventual fallout when it comes_. He tipped his head to one side, regarding the espada beside him speculatively. _I wonder what Juushiro and Nanao will think of Starrk?_

The arrancar – primera espada no more – turned, regarding Shunsui with an unreadable expression. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again. Shunsui waited patiently, but Starrk turned away without a word.

A flick of his wrist, and a garganta split the air in front of him. The black depths of the portal yawned open, emanating a spiritual chill that made Shunsui shiver. Starrk stepped forward, into the gate, running his fingers along the edge of the gash in the world. He still held the hilt of his zanpakuto in his right hand; the sheath had vanished somewhere. Shunsui wondered if it would regenerate, the way a shinigami sword did. _Or is that power lost forever?_ Another question that he couldn't answer.

The garganta began to close, and Starrk turned. Lifting his hand in an odd salute, he murmured, "Take care, shinigami captain. And…" He trailed off, and the portal snapped shut. If he completed the sentence, Shunsui couldn't hear it.

_Thank you_, Katen Kyokotsu murmured from the depths of his mind.

Shunsui turned away from the place where the garganta had been, stepping over the bloody mess in the rubble. _Was this what you wanted?_ he asked, launching into shunpo. Someone would find the blood and Starrk's discarded jacket, amidst the fragments of his sword, and assume that he, like Barragan, had dissolved into dust. If they noticed anything unusual about the reiatsu patterns around the scene, it would be easily dismissed as a result of the chaotic battle. Starrk's survival would remain a secret.

She sent him the mental impression of a shrug. _It remains to be seen what will come of this. But it opens the door_.

Shunsui sighed, touching down on one rooftop and launching himself to the next. _Will you ever stop playing your games?_ he asked, without much hope. She didn't deign to respond.

_Everything is a game to you, my lady_. _Just remember, your game pieces are human, and there is only so much we can bear before we break_.

He touched down in the cleared area in front of the makeshift infirmary tent, drawing no more than a glance from the exhausted shinigami guarding the doors. On any other day, his battered and bloody state – missing his haori, hat, and kimono – would have been cause for alarm and speculation. But not today. _A return to normality cannot come soon enough_.

But he knew it wouldn't occur as soon as he desired — the scars from the war would take a long time to fade. Even once the physical injuries healed, the memories, bitter and scalding, would remain.

The thought was disheartening. But…_ we've fought other wars, and recovered from them. We'll heal. It'll take time, but we'll heal_.

He sighed, reaching out with the last sparks of his reiatsu towards the tent. When he brushed against the faint, shaky, but very much alive presence of Juushiro, he almost wept.

_Yes, we'll heal_, he told himself again. _And maybe Starrk will as well_.


	3. Drops of Light

**Chapter 3: Drops of Light**

The crescent moon of Hueco Mundo hung low in the sky, casting its cold light over the endless sands. The silvery illumination sapped the colors from the world, painting the land in shades of gray. A chilled wind, laden with dust and reishi, danced over the dunes, bringing with it the faint scent of old bones.

Apart from a lone figure silhouetted against the ebony sky, the desert appeared deserted. Even the tiny creatures that lived in burrows beneath the sands were nowhere to be seen.

Starrk sighed, running a hand through messy brown hair as he stared across the rolling dunes. In the distance, he could see a stand of the crystalline trees that were the only things that broke up the monotony of the scenery in Hueco Mundo. He could reach it in minutes using sonido, but why bother? The view from the grove would be the same as the view from the dune on which he stood, just shifted slightly.

It didn't matter where you were in Hueco Mundo. You always saw the same thing.

After a few hundred years of desert, desert, and more desert, Starrk was sick of it. _At least there aren't any mountains of bones around_, he though. Aizen had taught him that much. His spiritual pressure no longer killed everyone within a several mile radius, though anyone who got too close still died. He could even control that for brief periods. _But again, why bother? There isn't anyone around who would care_.

_Shunsui would care_, a tiny corner of his mind muttered rebelliously. Starrk grimaced, forcing his thoughts away from the eccentric shinigami captain for the hundredth time in the past week. _He is a soul reaper_, he reminded himself. _He is the enemy_.

_So why'd he heal you, then?_ This time, the mutter sounded eerily reminiscent of Lilynette. Starrk flinched, hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his zanpakuto as a wave of sorrow crashed over him. He still hadn't gotten accustomed to the idea that he would never hear her voice again, never see her disgruntled expression when he did something she disliked. _She'll never wake me from a nap with a kick or a punch again, or get into trouble teasing Harribel's fracciones_. _Oh, Lilynette, why did you sacrifice yourself like that?_ Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see the whirlwind smashing through the glowing wolves, ripping them into pieces and destroying Lilynette beyond hope of resurrection. He'd given up on sleep – usually his favorite way of alleviating boredom – because her face haunted his nightmares. It was a good thing that rest was optional for arrancar, otherwise he'd be even more of a wreck than he already was. _Why, Lilynette, why?_

She didn't answer.

For the first few days, he had hoped that her spirit still lurked somewhere inside of him, but he had given up that bit of foolish optimism. No, Lilynette was gone. He didn't even know if her spirit could rejoin the cycle of rebirth, since she had only been part of a soul. _For that matter, if I die, what happens to me?_

Macabre curiosity, the strongest emotion besides despair that he'd felt in weeks, surged to the fore. The temptation to find out hit him like a load of bricks, and Shunsui's image swam into his mind. _ I did tell him, if I wanted to die, I'd challenge him again_, he thought ruefully. _Maybe this time I could see his bankai before he killed me_. It would be a tough fight without his resurrection, but, without Lilynette to protect, he wouldn't need to hold back. _And I could get revenge for Lilynette's death_.

Except he knew he couldn't kill the flamboyant captain. _If I tried, I'd have every captain in the Soul Society on me within seconds_. He sighed and flopped down on the dune. _I'm not quite that desperate for death yet_. The shattered remains of his zanpakuto prodded him as he shifted his weight, and he pulled the hilt out of his sash with a grimace. _Right now, I'd barely be a challenge for a fraccion, anyway_.

He ran his finger over the jagged edge of the remaining blade, feeling the chilled metal warm beneath his touch. Was it just his imagination, or had the blade gotten a bit longer? The fractured edge felt a touch smoother, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. _Can such destruction ever be healed?_ The zanpakuto was part of his soul, after all; maybe it couldn't be healed until the wounds in his spirit vanished.

Maybe it would never heal.

The prospect didn't bother Starrk much. Even without the blade, his strength equaled that of a vasto lorde. _I always wanted to be weaker_. His lips compressed. _I guess that's never going to happen_. If losing Lilynette, his zanpakuto, and a sizeable chunk of his reiatsu wasn't enough to do it, he didn't know what would. _At least now, I can't kill everything that comes too close_.

Much to his dismay, however, his spiritual pressure was recovering. He could feel the well of energy within him slowly filling again, regaining the power that had been lost when Shunsui's blade ripped through him. In a month or two, it'd be back to normal, leaving him even more isolated than he already was.

As a fit of anger surged through him, he hurled the broken hilt away. It sank into the sands, blade-first, and his anger washed away as quickly as it had come. Exhaustion dragging at his bones, he trudged over the dune to retrieve the zankaputo, then paused. Once his full strength was back, he'd never be able to take Shunsui up on his offer — the Soul Society would detect him in seconds. But, in his current state, he stood a chance of staying hidden long enough for a minute or two of conversation. And conversation would be quite welcome, after the last few weeks of silence…

Another wave of exhaustion tugged at his limbs, leaving his bones feel like they were full of lead. He shoved the broken blade into his sash. And, if it all exploded in his face, he'd have peace at last. Maybe he'd even meet Lilynette again, if their spirits could find each other in the next life.

Put that way, he couldn't see a downside. So, before he could think twice, he reached out and tore open a garganta to the Soul Society.

* * *

Much to Starrk's surprise, everything was going swimmingly until Shunsui's lieutenant found them.

His garganta had brought him to a low hill outside of the Seireitei proper, a grassy knoll with the forest stretching out behind it. From its top, he could see the whole city stretched out below him — the hum of energy from its thousands of souls purred against his skin — but he was far enough away that he couldn't harm anyone.

He'd had a brief moment of panic after stepping through the portal, for he had no idea how he was supposed to contact Shunsui now. He couldn't exactly waltz into the city, after all — even if he hadn't worried about killing everyone in sight, his bone mask and the hole at the base of his throat would have every shinigami in the city pouncing on him in seconds.

But then Shunsui had flashstepped in out of nowhere, a lazy grin on his face. "I was wondering when you'd show up." He lifted his hat. "I set a few kido warnings, just in case. Can't say I actually expected you to come, though."

"I can go," Starrk offered. "I don't want to cause trouble."

"No, no." Shunsui plopped himself down on the hillside, then patted the grass next to him. If he cared about staining his ridiculous pink kimono or the white haori underneath, he didn't. "Sit. So what brings you here?"

Starrk half-expected an ambush, but he accepted the invitation anyway. The ground was cool and a touch damp, a welcome difference from the dry, gritty sands. "I…" He looked away, over the gleaming city. "I don't know."

"Well, no worries, you're welcome here anyway," Shunsui reassured him. "You…" A flash of reiatsu interrupted him mid-sentence, and he beamed at the white-haired captain who'd just materialized on the hilltop. "See, Juu-chan will tell you."

Starrk stiffened, expecting an attack then and there. After all, the last time he'd seen Juushiro Ukitake, the shinigami's blood had been pouring down his sword. But, after a moment of utter shock, Juushiro had bowed. And, somehow, they'd all managed to have a pleasant conversation.

But then Nanao flash-stepped over the hill, landing in front of her captain with an irritated expression. "Sir, you forgot to sign the budget again, you really…" she began. Then she spotted Starrk, and froze. Her eyes flicked between Starrk, who watched her with a wary expression, and Shunsui, whose face was frozen in a guilty smile. Her eyes flickered over Juushiro, too, but then she visibly dismissed him in favor of glaring at both Starrk and her captain. "Taicho, that's an arrancar." Her tone was dangerously reasonable; reiatsu boiled around her.

Shunsui winced. "Ah. Yes. You see, Nanao-chan…" He snapped his mouth shut as she advanced on him, violet eyes sparking. "I can explain?" he offered.

She smacked him with the heavy book she held. "What. Is. He. Doing. Here? Have you lost your mind?" Starrk watched with amusement as she hit her captain again with the book. Not gently either, judging by the pained grunt Shunsui gave.

The flamboyant captain lifted his hands in the air. "Nanao-chan, don't be mad," he begged. She folded her arms and glared at him. Shunsui sent a pleading glance at Juushiro, who shook his head with a smile. "Ah, um… see…" He trailed off under her stern gaze. Starrk stifled a laugh, watching the powerful captain cower away from a girl half his size. He could tell she was strong – deserving of her rank as lieutenant – but Shunsui was far stronger. Yet he meekly accepted her tirade. It reminded him of himself and Lilynette.

Nanao waited for a moment, reiatsu flaring. Then she spun and threw her hands up in the air. "You are the most irresponsible, arrogant, reckless, thoughtless captain in the history of the Gotei 13!" she snapped. "Isn't he the one you were fighting?"

Shunsui sighed, a glint of amusement in his eye. "Nanao-chan, may I present Coyote Starrk, former primera espada?"

Starrk bowed slightly to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, lieutenant. Shunsui has told me much about you." Mostly that she forced him to fill out paperwork when he'd rather be drinking, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He'd gotten the sense that the two respected each other immensely – the bickering was just a game they played.

Right now, however, Nanao appeared genuinely angry. Turning on her captain, she demanded, "You brought Aizen's top espada into the Soul Society?" She tipped her head to one side. "You said you had killed him."

"Kind of?" Shunsui offered, spreading his hands. "I almost did, at any rate."

Juushiro chuckled, breaking his silence at last. "Then you healed him and invited him here."

Nanao sighed in exasperation. "You two are incorrigible. What will you do when Yamamoto-soutaicho learns about this?"

Shunsui shrugged nonchalantly. "Old man Yama won't find out. He's too busy dealing with the new council and the vizards." Turning to Starrk, he explained, "Aizen massacred Central 46, so for a while we didn't have to deal with their idiocy. But now there's a new council." He grinned mischievously. "Thankfully for all of us, they have their hands full dealing with the vizards."

"Who are frustrating the council at every turn," Juushiro put in. He didn't sound upset at all about that.

Shunsui's expression turned speculative. "You know, since they pardoned the vizards, they shouldn't have any problem with you. You're not that different from them now, really, except for the mask and hole. You eat, you drink…" He winked at Starrk. "You could probably have sex if you wanted…"

"Um…" Starrk replied eloquently.

Nanao punched Shunsui. "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

Shunsui grinned at her. "When surrounded by such beauty, Nanao-chan, how could I?" He flashed a playful glance at Juushiro. "Why, between you, my Juu-chan, and Starrk here, I've got the three most gorgeous people in the Soul Society by my side." He earned another punch for that.

Juushiro looked over at Starrk, who felt like he'd just been hit in the head with a board. He suspected his expression revealed as much, for Juushiro chuckled. "Don't mind Shunsui, he's always like this," he reassured the espada. "He flirts with everyone."

"Do not!" Shunsui responded indignantly. "Only the ones I'm attracted to!"

Nanao rolled her eyes. "Which is any woman old enough to have breasts, and a good portion of the men."

Shunsui pouted at her. "That's an unfair accusation, Nanao-chan. Who do I flirt with besides you and Juu-chan?"

"Starrk-san?" she pointed out dryly. Starrk's eyes widened as Shunsui winked at him again. _Captain, I can't tell if you actually mean what you're implying_, he told the shinigami within the privacy of his own mind. _But leave me out of this!_ While it was gratifying to realize that Shunsui treated him just like he would treat another shinigami, the flirtation was more than a bit unnerving. For one thing, he had no idea what shinigami mating customs consisted of…

Shunsui waved a dismissive hand. "Okay, besides you three, then."

Nanao lifted an eyebrow. "Do you want the list ordered alphabetically or by recency?"

Juushiro broke into a laugh. "You know she could do it," he advised Shunsui. "I recommend that you give up while you're not too far behind."

Shunsui looked around the circle with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. "My Nanao-chan and my Juu-chan are so cruel," he complained. "Starrk, you're still on my side, right?"

"Um…" Starrk said again. Frantic glances at Nanao and Juushiro proved useless — the former was glaring at her captain, while the latter seemed entirely too amused by the whole situation. "I think I'm not getting involved," he decided.

"Good choice," Juushiro chuckled. "Give Shunsui an inch and he'll take a mile."

Shunsui looked affronted at that. "I will not!" He smirked. "Only if you want me to."

"Incorrigible," Nanao muttered. She glanced at Starrk. "But you're changing the subject, and you know it. An arrancar, taicho? Really?"

"Oh, don't be so uptight, Nanao-chan," Shunsui told her. But a hint of discomfort entered his reiatsu as he looked away from Nanao. Starrk couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he could guess — after Aizen's betrayal, Soul Society would not look kindly on a captain consorting with a hollow. And not just any hollow, but the former primera espada.

Bleak emptiness settled over Starrk. Despite the sun on his skin, he felt chilled; the hole at the base of his neck ached where Shunsui's blade had cut through him. The two shinigami captains might be friendly, but he didn't belong here.

Rising took every ounce of willpower he possessed, but he somehow managed to make it to his feet. "No, she's right. I shouldn't be here." He bowed to Shunsui and Juushiro. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Without giving them time to argue, he ripped open a garganta and stepped through. Shunsui flung out a hand to catch him, but any words he might have spoken were lost as the portal closed, and Starrk was glad of it. He didn't need pity or false hope, or any reason to return — the whole visit had been a mistake.

* * *

Shunsui watched the pale sands vanish through the shrinking black portal with an odd ache in his heart. Things had been going so well — Starrk had even smiled once or twice. But then Nanao had shown up, and everything had gone to shit.

He couldn't blame his lieutenant, though, for she was right. If Old Man Yama discovered an espada in the Soul Society… Shunsui shuddered. His wrath could burn the entire forest behind them in the blink of an eye, and he'd never think twice about it. The vizards had him edgy enough, but they, at least, had fought on the right side. Starrk had no such protection.

But Shunsui hated the desolation that had swept over Starrk's face before the arrancar had masked it. _Is this why you ordered me to heal him?_ he demanded silently. _So you could punish him further?_

He wouldn't have put it past his mercurial zanpakuto, but she just snorted. _Even I am not that cruel_.

_Then why?_ From what he could see, he'd done Starrk no favors on that battlefield. If the espada wasn't on the edge of suicidal depression, Shunsui would eat his hat. He'd seen such a state in far too many of the soldiers who'd served in his division — sometimes he'd been able to help them, but not always. And what help did Starrk have, trapped in that endless desert?

_You'll see_, Katen Kyokotsu purred.

Shunsui rolled his eyes. When she took that tone, it was useless to argue with her, but he took a petty satisfaction in raising internal shields against her. If she wanted to talk, she could ask politely, like a sane zankaputo.

Juushiro slung an arm over his shoulder. "Don't fall in love with him."

"Who? Starrk? I won't." But, even as he said it, something in his heart twinged. It wasn't love, no, but… he'd always had a weakness for the wounded ones.

Nanao laid a hand on his arm — a rare breach of the propriety she strove to maintain while in uniform. "He's right, Shunsui. You know it won't end well."

"I know." And, oh, how he knew. Far too many of his former relationships had failed because he and his erstwhile partner came from different worlds, and those differences had been minor compared to this. An arrancar and a shinigami captain? The mere idea was absurd.

_At least he has the power to equal yours, though_, a treacherous part of Shunsui whispered. _The others didn't have that_.

Power, yes, but not species, home, or a host of other things. For all Shunsui knew, Starrk might have loved his position as the primera espada and the bloodshed that went along with it. Admittedly, that wasn't very likely, in Shunsui's estimation, but it was possible.

Nanao shook her head and stepped backwards, becoming the stern lieutenant once more. "I'm sure." She hesitated. "Don't do anything stupid, alright?"

"Of course not," he reassured her, but she was already flashstepping away.

Juushiro chuckled softly. "She says that, but we all know how unlikely you are to obey." He pressed a kiss to Shunsui's temple. "But I have to echo her words here. Starrk's strong — he can take care of himself."

"I know," Shunsui repeated. But raw strength only went so far — everyone had their breaking point. And Shunsui was afraid that Starrk was close to his.


	4. If Only

**Chapter 4: If Only**

After the warmth of the Soul Society, the desert sands held a chill that no amount of reiatsu could chase away. It was almost enough to make Starrk long for the false sky Aizen's had built over Las Noches, with its everlasting blue. Not that it had held any real warmth, but the fake sunlight would be better than this unrelenting blackness.

But that dome was shattered now, like so much of Aizen's grandiose palace, and Starrk had no desire to return in any case. He'd visited once, shortly after Shunsui had healed him, and that had been more than enough. Walking through the empty halls had been like walking through a mausoleum, except that he kept expecting former comrades to walk around the corner. He'd even heard their voices once or twice, or at least thought he had.

Ironically, his own tower had been untouched. His nest of pillows was still rumpled, like he and Lilynette had just arisen from a nap; a cup of now-evaporated tea still rested on a table. A fine layer of sand had drifted into the corners, but that was nothing new — in Hueco Mundo, nothing escaped the desert's touch for long.

But the rooms had been silent in a way they never used to be. Even in her sleep, Lilynette made her presence felt — as much as he'd wished to, he couldn't pretend she was somewhere just out of sight.

Starrk's steps faltered. For lack of anything better to do, he'd been walking over the dunes, but now he stopped, unable to force himself to go any farther. What did it really matter, anyway? Here was no different than anywhere else in the desert. He had no need to seek out the few sheltered places, the stone canyons that his lesser kin fought over — anyone who attacked him deserved what they got.

Or maybe he could let them win… a challenger with sufficient strength would be able to pierce his skin if he didn't fight back. Maybe he'd see Lilynette again, that way.

Without really deciding to, he sank into a cross-legged seat on the dune, then wrapped his arms around himself. Were arrancar reborn like normal souls, or had Aizen's manipulations ripped that away from them too? And did it matter? Lilynette was gone — even a chance of seeing her again was better than none at all.

And he was so dreadfully tired. His body felt like it had been transformed to lead; putting one foot in front of the other sapped every ounce of strength he possessed. He wasn't sleepy, though — just drained. The thoughts swirling around in his head were muddy, obscured by fog.

His eyes fell closed, and he let them. He wasn't sleepy, but sleep would be a blessing despite that. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, he'd wake to find that this had all been a dream.

* * *

Instead, he woke to a hand on his shoulder and a voice he'd never expected to hear again. "Starrk? Starrk-san, wake up." The hand shook him gently. "Can you hear me?"

He didn't want to open his eyes. If Shunsui was here, that meant Lilynette was dead, along with everyone else. Yet, somehow, he was still alive.

He rolled away from the hand and threw an arm over his face. "Go 'way." He didn't need some shinigami captain's pity — everything would be fine if he could just go back to sleep.

Sand rustled as he shifted, pouring through his hollow hole. An unpleasant sensation, to say the least — it felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to the sensitive skin. He grumbled under his breath and tried to find a more comfortable position, only for the sand covering him to shift once again. Grit filled his clothes and coated his lips — how long had he been asleep?

Shunsui brushed the sand away from his shoulders. "Starrk, have you… have you been sleeping for the last month?"

Well, that answered one question. And, as it seemed clear that the shinigami wasn't going to leave until he got what he wanted, Starrk sat up. Sand poured off him. "Is that how long it's been?" He yawned. If anything, his long nap had left him more exhausted than before.

"Since you came to visit? Yes." Shunsui hesitated. "I was worried."

Starrk glanced around, but the captain was alone apart from the zankaputo sheathed at his hip. "How'd you get here?" He couldn't imagine this was a sanctioned trip, and shinigami didn't have a way to create personal garganta.

Shunsui shrugged. "I called in a favor from Kisuke. You probably don't know him…"

"No, I do," Starrk interrupted. "Aizen liked to rant about him." Starrk had usually slept through the tirades, but he'd gathered enough to recognize the name. He eyed Shunsui suspiciously. "Why?"

"Like I said, I was worried." Shunsui tipped his face down so his hat — ridiculous in the dark desert — shadowed his eyes. Discomfort threaded through his reiatsu. "I can go, though, if you want."

Starrk started to say yes, then stopped. If Shunsui had come all this way, burning favors to do so, it would be a shame to order him back home so quickly. And, well… hearing another voice lit a warm fire in Starrk's belly. So he shook his head. "No. It's okay."

Tipping his hat back up to reveal his grin, Shunsui took a seat on the dune next to Starrk. "So, uh… how are you?"

Starrk looked away. "I'm here, aren't I?" He couldn't think of what else to say. How was he supposed to describe the yawning emptiness inside of him, the ache that would never be healed? What could he say about the lethargy dogging his heels, or the overwhelming desire to curl back up and let dreams whisk him away again?

"Yes, you are. And that's something."

Silence fell then, and Starrk didn't break it. Part of him regretted asking Shunsui to stay — it would have been so much easier to just go back to sleep. He'd never actually tested how long he could stay asleep, for Lilynette always woke him up when she grew bored. But, without her around… maybe, if he slept long enough, he'd wake up to find that it didn't hurt so much anymore.

But Shunsui seemed content to sit in silence, and the brush of his reiatsu was oddly comforting. Though Starrk's strength was close to recovered, Shunsui evinced no discomfort from the spiritual pressure — his own spirit energy was strong but placid. And warm… it chased away the desert chill in away Starrk's reiatsu couldn't.

Without meaning to, Starrk found himself leaning in towards that warmth. As soon as he noticed, he straightened — Shunsui was no Lilynette, to trade casual affection with. But Shunsui didn't seem to mind that, either.

At last Starrk heaved a sigh. "Why are you here?" Why would a shinigami captain worry about a stray arrancar?

Shunsui's hand lifted, then fell back into his lap. "I was hoping you'd come visit again. Hueco Mundo can't be a very interesting place, especially now."

"Why?" Starrk repeated. He felt stupid, saying it over and over, but none of this made sense.

Shunsui hesitated. "I… I wanted to know you were okay." He offered Starrk a crooked smile. "I know it's not my place, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but I do feel some amount of responsibility for you."

If anything, that made even less sense than anything else Shunsui had said. Even Aizen — Starrk's creator, for all intents and purposes — hadn't felt responsible for the arrancar like that. Once formed, if they didn't measure up, he discarded them without a second thought. Starrk's current moping would have earned him scorn at best, exile at worst.

He didn't want to ask why yet again, though. So he cast about for something else to say, and finally landed on "Thank you. I think."

Shunsui chuckled. "Don't thank me yet. As Nanao can tell you, I can be a pain in the ass."

Starrk seized on the subject change. "Is she still mad at you?"

The corners of Shunsui's lips twitched. "Oh, I'm sure she will be once she learns I came here. But, no, she isn't at the moment." He sighed, but it was the fond sigh of a close companion. "After I get home, though…"

"You two seem close." Were lieutenants like fracciones, for shinigami? He didn't really understand how the soul reaper hierarchy functioned. Some of the captains — the assassin lady who'd taken out Barragan, for instance — seemed to hate their lieutenants. But others, like Shunsui, had a much closer bond. Starrk couldn't imagine a fraccion scolding their espada the way Nanao had scolded Shunsui — even the most tolerant espada would never have permitted that.

Of course, Lilynette had talked to him that way… She was special, though. A pang of sorrow pierced his chest.

But Shunsui's laugh pulled him back to the present. "Closer than we should be, Nanao always says. You have no idea how long it took before she agreed to a single date."

"Umm." Starrk blinked. "I thought… you and the white-haired captain…" He stumbled to a halt. Maybe he'd misread things during that afternoon on the hill. They'd certainly seemed close, with the way they exchanged casual touches, but maybe that was just shinigami culture.

"Oh, we are," Shunsui assured him cheerfully, deepening his confusion.

Starrk shook his head. "How does that even work?" he blurted out, before realizing how rude that was.

Thankfully, Shunsui didn't take offense. "Lots and lots and lots of talking!" He tilted his head to one side. "How does it work among hollows, if you don't mind me asking? Do you, well, have long-term relationships, or…?"

Starrk shrugged. "Among ordinary hollows, there's no such thing — it's kill or be killed. Once Aizen transformed us, well…" He looked away. "The vasto lordes sometimes form packs or families, but mating tends to be more casual. As arrancar, we kept that, I think." And maybe that had been deliberate, on Aizen's part — he wanted their undivided loyalty.

"Huh." Shunsui rubbed the back of his neck. "It can be pretty casual among shinigami, too — when you know someone might not come back from their next mission, it's not always good to get attached. But sometimes we do anyway."

Starrk winced at the echo of pain in Shunsui's voice. "And then they don't come back, do they?"

Shunsui heaved a sigh. "No. Not always."

"When does it stop hurting, then?" Starrk demanded. All of a sudden, he was angry — angry at Aizen, angry at the desert, even angry at the shinigami sitting beside him. Fury burned through his veins, and he welcomed it, for its heat was a far cry better than the bleak emptiness it replaced.

Shunsui, to his credit, didn't flinch, though Starrk knew his reiatsu was flaring wildly. "Sometimes it never does." He picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. "It gets easier to bear, though. You'll think of them, some memory of time you've spent together, and you'll smile instead of crying. You'll be able to remember the good parts, not just the end."

Starrk turned his head away. "You didn't have to kill her."

Shunsui stayed silent for a long moment before replying. "There's nothing I can say that will bring her back, or ease the pain you're feeling now. But I am genuinely sorry she's gone."

"I don't care." Shunsui was right — the words didn't help at all. Starrk twisted so his back was to the shinigami. "She was just a kid. She didn't deserve to die in those skies." And, if he'd fought harder, maybe he could have protected her.

"No. She didn't." Regret flavored Shunsui's voice.

The heat boiling through Starrk rose at that. How dare Shunsui regret it now? Now, when it couldn't do any good, after Lilynette was gone forever… He bit his lip to keep from screaming. "You should go."

Fabric rustled as Shunsui stood. Starrk remained facing away, but he could hear the soft swish as the captain brushed sand off of himself. "Of course. But, Starrk…" He drew in a breath. "You're still welcome to visit if you choose."

Then, before Starrk could decide how to reply, Shunsui was gone, vanishing in a flash of reiatsu as he shunpoed away. Starrk slumped forward. Anger spilled out of him like water from a cracked pot, and he buried his head in his hands. _Damn that shinigami. Just… damn him_.


	5. The Trouble with Ultimatums

**Chapter 5: The Trouble with Ultimatums**

When Starrk's reiatsu set off Shunsui's detector kido three weeks later, Shunsui nearly fell over. He thought he'd ruined any chance of ever seeing the espada again. And, honestly, he wouldn't have blamed Starrk for that — Shunsui may have been defending himself, but he'd also killed the person closest to Starrk's heart.

But now Starrk was back, and at the worst time, too. The captains' meeting had been going on for an hour now, and Yamamoto's pontification promised to last another two.

Shunsui glanced down the line of captains to see Juushiro's lips pressed together. The white-haired captain had created the templates for the detection spells; it was no surprise that he'd also noticed Starrk's arrival.

Yamamoto slanted a glance at Shunsui. "Kyoraku, is everything alright?"

Shunsui offered up his best lazy smile. "Just a bee, I think." He shot a pleading glance at Juushiro. _Help me? _ If Yamamoto found out Starrk was here… the whole point of the current meeting was the security of the Soul Society.

Juushiro returned a look that said 'we'll talk about this later,' then sighed and coughed into a handkerchief he pulled from his sleeve. When he lifted it from his lips, crimson dotted it.

Shunsui broke the line and hurried over. "Juu-chan!" He glanced over his shoulder. "Soutaicho, can I help Ukitake-san back to his division?"

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. This wasn't the first time Shunsui and Juushiro had escaped meetings this way, so he was right to be suspicious, but Shunsui didn't care. As long as Yamamoto assumed that boredom, rather than any other goal, was the motivating factor, he wouldn't look into it harder.

Juushiro coughed again, and Yamamoto pinched his lips together. "Very well." He ran an eye over the rest of the captains, most of whom bore badly-concealed looks of envy, boredom, or both. At one end, Zaraki had given up any pretense of paying attention, and was lounging against the wall with his eyes closed; at another, Kensei was fiddling with the hem of his probationary captain's haori. "We'll resume this tomorrow."

Relief flooded the room. Zaraki woke with a jerk. "Are we done?" he mumbled, pushing himself off the wall.

"For today," Yamamoto informed him.

He followed it up with the start of a lecture on respect, but Shunsui and Juushiro were already out the door. Juushiro made a point of leaning against Shunsui until they passed around a corner, where he straightened. "Want to explain?"

Shunsui gave his lover a sheepish grin. "I may have said he was welcome back." He lifted his hands. "I didn't think he'd actually take me up on it!" As the sound of voices drew near, he glanced over his shoulder. "I should…"

"Go," Juushiro interrupted. "Before anyone else notices."

Before the last word left Juushiro's mouth, Shunsui launched himself into shunpo.

* * *

He found Starrk on the same hill as last time, staring out at the city with a blank expression on his face. The espada didn't turn when Shunsui landed next to him, though his reiatsu showed no signs of surprise either — he'd clearly felt Shunsui coming.

Shunsui, for his part, was impressed by how little he could feel Starrk. The former primera had wrapped his immense spiritual pressure into a neat ball tucked inside his skin — a shinigami would see him before they felt him. So, as long as no one wandered this far out, they should be safe.

Should being the operative word there. Shunsui hadn't survived for so long by ignoring his instincts, and something set his teeth on edge as he landed beside Starrk. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but it was enough to rouse Katen Kyokotsu from her dreams and bring her to the surface of his mind.

She peered out of his eyes. _Your little project is broken_.

Shunsui studied Starrk out of the corner of his eye. The espada might have been a statue, for all the motion he showed — Shunsui couldn't even tell if he was breathing. His face was composed into harsh lines, eyes half-closed as though opening them took too much energy; his hands hung limp at his sides. Though his zankaputo had regained its former length, it, too, hung like a dead thing, without any of the life Shunsui would have expected from a blade like that.

He swallowed down a grimace. _You're the one who wanted me to heal him. If he's broken, that's on you_. But the bitter words did little to quell the lump in his throat.

Katen Kyokotsu's laugh was jagged. _Your choice, love. And don't you pretend otherwise_.

Shunsui didn't bother to reply to her. What good would it do? She was right.

When he couldn't stand the silence anymore, he cleared his throat. "I didn't expect you back."

Starrk's shoulders twitched, as though he'd started to shrug but didn't have the energy to finish. Then he turned his head to pin Shunsui in a hard stare. "Will you show me your bankai?"

The words hit Shunsui like a blow. He rocked back a half step, shaking his head before he could think better of it. "Why?"

But he knew why. And, staring into those dead eyes, he realized that a part of him had expected such a request since the moment he detected Starrk's reiatsu. What else could bring the former primera back?

He started to lift a hand, then flushed and rubbed the back of his neck instead. "Starrk…" He shook his head again. In his centuries as a captain, he'd sat beside a number of shinigami as they peered into the abyss, deciding whether or not to jump. But he'd never felt as lost for words as he did now. Starrk was no greenhorn, traumatized by his first battle; death was bred into his bones.

Loss, though, that was new to him. As it had been to any number of shinigami under Shunsui's command — but those shinigami hadn't been so utterly alone afterwards. Starrk hadn't just lost Lilynette, he'd lost his entire world.

_Maybe we should show him_, Katen Kyokotsu murmured.

_Damn you_, Shunsui spat back. _I didn't heal him just to kill him now_.

As though he could hear Shunsui's inner debate, Starrk laughed without humor. A world of bitterness flavored his tone as he said, "Why not?"

"For the same reason I healed you," Shunsui shot back. "You don't deserve to die here." And especially not like that.

Another laugh. "Here's as good as anywhere. Better, even. There's sunlight." He hesitated. "And it's not so… quiet."

_Doesn't he deserve that choice?_ Katen Kyokotsu put in.

Shunsui ignored her. "Hueco Mundo's pretty quiet, then?"

Starrk's lips twisted. "Like nothing you can imagine."

"Why don't you stay here for a bit, then?" Shunsui suggested. It was a monumentally stupid idea, and he knew it, but that didn't stop him from saying it. "Enjoy the sunlight for a while." Talk to me, he almost added, but didn't.

For a moment, something akin to shock flared to life in Starrk's reiatsu. But then it guttered, and he shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?" Shunsui challenged. "With the way you're hiding your reiatsu right now, no one would notice. And I highly doubt you're going to go on a rampage." Letting his tone turn teasing, he lifted an eyebrow.

But Starrk didn't laugh. "You shouldn't trust me."

He was probably right, if Shunsui was honest with himself. Old Man Yama would strip Shunsui of his captaincy if he found out about it, and that was if he was feeling merciful. But Shunsui just shrugged. "You haven't given me any reason not to." Apart from the whole arrancar thing. But he prided himself on being a good judge of character, and he couldn't sense any malice from Starrk.

"Then you're a fool." Starrk's tone was flat.

Shunsui chuckled. "Nanao tells me that regularly. And she's always right, but I'd rather be a fool for trusting people, rather than the other way around."

Starrk turned to study the city. "You're lucky, you know," he murmured, almost too soft to be heard.

"Yes. Yes I am." Shunsui had no argument there.

He twisted to examine the Seireitei as well, wondering what it looked like to arrancar eyes. Those thriving streets, full of the people who kept the city running — did a part of Starrk still see them as prey? Did he mark the locations of the barracks like a soldier in enemy territory? Or was his eye drawn to the architecture, the elegant towers and the curves of the red roofs? Las Noches has been an impressive construction, but it couldn't rival the ancient, stately manors of the noble clans. The gardens alone, visible from here as open green squares dotted with trees, must have been a foreign sight to a desert-raised hollow.

And the scents! The dirt underfoot still held the moist, rich scent of morning rain, which complemented the cherry blossoms blooming in the city below. Their perfume was faint up here, but, if he breathed in, he could still get a whiff… of smoke?

Shunsui frowned. "Do you…" he started to say, just as Starrk tensed.

"Something's coming."

* * *

Before his words died away, a roar split the air. Both of them drew their blades as a horde of oni blasted out of shunpo to materialize on the hilltop.

Shunsui couldn't tell who was more surprised, him or the oni, but he had no time to savor the shock on their bright red faces when they spotted Starrk. Twelve feet tall at a minimum, each oni wielded a heavy iron club covered in spikes, which they swung with reckless abandon. Some wore motley armor, but others were bare-chested, relying on their famously tough skin to protect them.

And, as Shunsui realized when he gutted one, only to have the wound seal back up within moments, their regeneration.

He ducked under a vicious swing and cut upwards, severing the oni's hand at the wrist. It bellowed and backpedaled, but he didn't have time to see if that, too, could heal, for another three were on him. With one at either side, and one in front, he whirled, dropping low and striking at their thighs as he dove out of their pincer. Clubs smashed into the ground behind him, and an oni bellowed.

Then it became a nightmare of slashing and blocking and slashing again, dodging like a ballerina to avoid the heavy swings of those clubs. Katen Kyokotsu's blades were strong, but not unbreakable — he didn't want to test those limits. So he dodged and spun and ducked as gore covered him from head to toe, and the oni kept on coming.

Beside him, Starrk fought with the ferocity of a wolf, grace and recklessness and fury in one gorgeous package. His own hierro protecting him, he shrugged off blow after blow, flowing through the fight without using a drop more energy than he had to. And, as oni blood painted his white clothing blue, heat sparked inside his reiatsu.

At some point, other spiritual pressures flickered onto the hilltop — Juushiro, Zaraki and the Eleventh, Renji, and a host of others Shunsui didn't bother to identify. There was no hope of keeping Starrk's presence secret now, of course, but, as long as no one attacked him, Shunsui couldn't bring himself to care. And Juushiro must have warned the defenders, for they turned their blades on the oni alone.

Step by step, the group retreated. Down the hill, through the fields outside the city, and onto the road proper — the oni paid for every step with blood, but their tide was relentless.

Then a shiver ran down Shunsui's spine. He kicked his newest opponent backwards as the Seireitei walls crashed down, crushing the oni unfortunate enough to be trapped beneath them. The members of the Eleventh, whooping, slaughtered the few who remained inside — apparently oni regeneration couldn't repair dismemberment.

Shunsui slumped against the wall and swiped a hand over his forehead. "Kami, what was that?" He stifled a groan. Despite his acrobatics, he'd taken enough blows to leave his body black and blue — if he wasn't mistaken, he had at least three broken ribs, and his shoulder wasn't moving right. _All I want to do is sleep for a week_.

He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Starrk sighed. "Yes please." The espada mirrored Shunsui's posture against the wall, head bowed. Gore encrusted his coat and pants; his hair stuck out in blue-greased spikes. Even the bone fangs around his neck were coated in the stuff — though, unfortunately, they were still unmistakably an arrancar mask.

"Alright, alright everyone, settle down!" Kuchiki's voice rang above the din of people sharing battle stories. "Return to your divisions at once — the excitement here is over."

Shunsui snorted. "For you, maybe." He could feel Yamamoto's fiery reiatsu approaching at high speed — his personal excitement was apparently about to begin.

As the assembled shinigami dispersed, Yamamoto flashed into the courtyard. Anger burned in his eyes as he stalked over to Shunsui and Starrk. "Kyoraku, what is the meaning of this?" His grip shifted on his cane. "I presume this is why you and Ukitake staged that little stunt in the meeting?"

Shunsui winced. "I can explain." He scrambled for words, for a magic phrase that might convince the old man to show mercy.

Yamamoto snorted. "Nothing you say can excuse this. An espada, here, in the Soul Society? Have you lost your mind?" Heat poured off him in waves.

Starrk bowed his head. "I'll go."

"Wait." Shunsui flung out a hand. With the walls — and, more importantly, the newly-reinforced wards — up, he didn't know if a garganta could even get through, but he hated to send Starrk back to the desert like this.

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed. The fury swirling around him rose to a boiling point, scorching Shunsui's skin. "Wait?" he gritted. Smoke drifted out from beneath his fingers where they clenched the wood concealing his zanpakuto.

Shunsui refused to flinch. "Yes. At least let him rest first. We owe him that much — I wouldn't have survived the attack without him."

"Then you don't deserve your haori." Yamamoto shook his head. "I expected better from you." He rounded on Juushiro as the white-haired captain hurried up. "And you! I assume you knew about this?"

Juushiro offered the head captain a brief bow. "I did."

The lack of excuses seemed to enrage Yamamoto further. "I expected far, far more. From both of you." He lifted his chin. "Will you go to the Senzaikyu peacefully, or must I force you?"

Shunsui blinked. "Soutaicho?" Yamamoto couldn't mean that. Not now, not with an army at their gates.

"You heard me." Yamamoto's grip tightened around his walking stick.

Juushiro slid a glance at Shunsui. "We'll go peacefully."

Yamamoto turned his fury on Starrk. "As for you…"

Starrk straightened. A fey light entered his eyes, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Though his reiatsu remained contained, his stance shifted ever so slightly, bringing him into perfect balance. Though an air of weariness still clung to him, an edge of danger had joined it, a feral reminder that he'd been Aizen's primera for a reason.

Yamamoto's lips curled as he took in the changes. "I'll give you one chance to live. Go home."

Shunsui tensed. Was Yamamoto blind, or just arrogant? Giving such an ultimatum to Starrk now, of all times…

In truth, Shunsui didn't know who would win, if a battle broke out now. Starrk's strength had fully regenerated, and recklessness could take a warrior a long ways, but Yamamoto had raw power and experience on his side. If either was still standing at the end, Shunsui would be shocked. And the collateral damage would be horrific.

So, before Starrk could accept the unspoken challenge, Shunsui reached out and touched his hand. "Please. Go home. For me."

Starrk's expressions locked down. "Fine." He spun away and lifted a hand.

Then, after a minute, dropped it. "I can't."

"Ah." Juushiro winced. "I'll have to let Urahara know that his wards work." He turned to Yamamoto. "If you remember, we asked him to upgrade the Seireitei's defenses."

For a moment, Shunsui expected Yamamoto to draw his blade then and there. But then he glanced around at the surrounding buildings and grimaced. "Very well. You may join these two in the tower, then, until this siege is resolved."

Starrk's shoulders slumped forward as the light left his eyes. "Can't be worse than the desert," he mumbled.

Shunsui made a face. "We'll see how long you keep thinking that."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! And thank you to everyone who's reviewed this story so far!


	6. Patience is a Virtue

**Chapter 6: Patience is a Virtue**

After months on his own in the desert, Starrk had thought he was accustomed to boredom.

He was wrong.

By the fifth or sixth hour inside the barren tower to which he was now confined, he was thoroughly sick of it. The sand dunes of Hueco Mundo offered little more variety, but there, at least, he could travel as he wished. Here, he had nothing more than a set of stairs to explore.

When they'd first locked the doors, he'd climbed those stairs, purely because he could, but the view from the thin slits they called windows left him unsettled for reasons he couldn't name. After a single long glance, he'd turned away and returned to the ground floor. It was easier that way. Better.

But a dull sort of restlessness gnawed at him as his instincts screamed about his confinement. Though lethargy dragged at his limbs, his eyes refused to stay closed, and so he slumped against the wall without sleeping.

He'd never failed to sleep before.

If Lilynette were here, she'd be laughing at him right about now, throwing out plan after plan to escape. Never mind the energy-deadening effects of the stone — he could almost hear her confident laugh as her plans grew crazier and crazier.

He wrapped his arms around himself. _She would have pulled it off, too. Found some way to get us out of here_.

Of course, if she'd still been with him, he wouldn't have come here in the first place.

Starrk glanced over at Shunsui, who was sprawled against the wall with his hat over his face. The brim fluttered every time he snored — Starrk envied him that. Beside him, Juushiro sat cross-legged, hands on his knees and eyes closed; he appeared to be meditating. Neither had said much since they were locked away, though, in fairness, Starrk hadn't either.

He closed his eyes, but they fluttered open again after a few seconds. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet. If he couldn't embrace the comfort of sleep, he might as well do something.

But what? Now he wished he'd ignored Shunsui's request and taken the head captain up on his challenge. Tired as he was after the battle with the oni, he had few illusions about his ability to win such a clash, but it would have been a glorious way to go out. And, in all likelihood, painless… one failed block, and he'd be ash before he could blink. _Then maybe_…

He forced the thought away, but doubt lingered. Why had he obeyed Shunsui, anyway? He owed the shinigami nothing. But he hadn't even hesitated when Shunsui asked him to go home.

He glanced at the captain's prone form, then away again. Lying there in that ridiculous pink kimono, no one would believe that he was one of the oldest captains — he looked more like a drunkard than a warrior. But Starrk had tasted the fury in those blades firsthand, and pitied anyone who underestimated the flamboyant man.

Frustration flared to life within Starrk. Before the brief energy burst faded, he strode towards the stairs — if this place had a weakness, it was the windows. And, unless he wanted to be cooped up in here for who-knew-how-long, he'd better find a way to exploit that.

But he was only halfway to the top of the tower when the door creaked open. Sunlight spilled into the room, along with a burst of furious reiatsu and an equally furious voice. "Shunsui Kyoraku, what the hell were you thinking?"

Both reiatsu and sunlight were cut off a moment later as the door thudded shut, but the voice continued as Nanao stalked over to her captain and kicked him. "You are possibly the most irresponsible, idiotic man to ever wear a haori. Bringing an arrancar here once was bad enough, but this?" She drove her toe into his ribs again. "You're accuses of treason, you idiot!"

Shunsui scrambled upright, holding up both hands to stem the tide. "Nanao, love, I can explain…"

"Can you?" She looked him up and down with a disdainful sniff. "At least you're not badly injured. Yet."

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He pressed a hand to his ribs. "A few broken ribs, but nothing to worry about."

Nanao's arms tightened around the book she was carrying. "If you think being imprisoned in here is fine, then you need to reevaluate your priorities. You know full well what they do to traitors." A flash of fear crossed her face.

Shunsui looked away. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry." Her shoulders crumpled. "Shunsui, how could you?"

Juushiro rose from his cross-legged position with lithe grace. Coming to stand next to Shunsui, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's not so bad as all that. Once he gets over his first flush of fury, Yamamoto will listen to reason."

Up on the stairs, Starrk bit back a snort. If that was what they were waiting for, they'd be waiting an awfully long time, he suspected. The old man who he'd seen did not seem like the type to relent once his mind was made up.

Nanao must have held the same opinion, for she pressed her lips together. "He's already summoned the new council to meet in a week's time. Unohana tried to reason with him, but he refused to even see her. After Aizen…" She faltered and glanced around. "Where is he?"

Starrk winced as Juushiro looked up, but the white-haired captain's eyes held nothing but serenity. "Starrk, why don't you come down here and join us? This pertains to you too."

Since he'd be party to the conversation no matter where he was, it was a pointless request in some ways, but that didn't stop a flush of pleasure from spreading over Starrk. He offered Juushiro a flicker of a smile before heading back down.

As he traversed the stairs, Shunsui murmured more apologies to Nanao, but she cut him off with a jerk of her head as Starrk joined them. "So." She freed a hand from her book to push her glasses up on her nose. "I don't suppose any of you have an argument you can deliver to the council that will explain all this?"

"Before we start plotting, I don't suppose you have food?" Shunsui asked plaintively. "Or sake?"

She threw him a dirty look. "Sake, Kyoraku?" When he gave her puppy-dog eyes, she cast her glance skyward. "I will ask the guards to bring food."

He beamed at her. "That's the Nanao-chan I love."

She snorted. "If we can focus… you do realize this is no laughing matter, right?"

"We know." Juushiro shot a look at Shunsui as the other captain opened his mouth. "I'll admit, I did not expect Yamamoto to take such a hard line on this."

Shunsui pinched the bridge of his nose. "I knew Aizen's betrayal shook him, but… not to this extent."

A wave of disorientation washed over Starrk. The two captains were talking as though they were all sitting down to tea, not standing in a circle in the middle of a barren prison tower. Despite the absurdity of the notion, Starrk wanted to urge everyone to sit — somehow, their little circle didn't fit the gravity of the situation.

Or maybe that was just his own exhaustion talking. He had no illusions about the outcome of any trial, at least not for him, and he couldn't decide if he cared or not. Aizen had boasted about the murders of the prior council, describing them as aging fools who'd deserved to die — Starrk suspected that the new council would take great pleasure in enacting revenge.

"Starrk?" Shunsui touches his hand. "How are you doing with all this?"

Starrk shrugged. "It's…" Another shrug as he trailed off. "What do you want me to say?" He couldn't come up with anything coherent in the privacy of his own mind, much less anything to say out loud.

Shunsui winced. "I'm sorry for getting you into this."

Starrk couldn't tell if that was sympathy or pity in Shunsui's eyes, but he didn't want either one. "One way or another, it'll end soon."

Nanao squinted at him suspiciously. "If you're planning on attempting a breakout, don't. This tower is impregnable."

Shunsui cocked his head to one side. "They say that… have they ever actually tried? Two captains and an arrancar — the strongest arrancar we know about, no less — aren't exactly easy to contain."

"No. Absolutely not." Nanao's glare could have frozen stone. "If you want a single shred of mercy from the council or the head captain, you will sit here like meek little lambs."

Starrk wanted to laugh, but couldn't find the energy. "You know they'll never show me mercy."

Nanao flushed. "I…" She looked away, then back at him, lips pursed. "No. You're right." Her shoulders straightened. "And, if my captain isn't a traitor, then I suppose you must be innocent as well."

Starrk's smile was bitter. "In this instance, possibly. But your council will only see these." He ran his fingers over the bone fangs at his neck.

"Then we need to find a way to make them unimportant. Something that can convince the council to…"

An explosion cut her off. All four of them jumped, and both Shunsui and Juushiro rushed to the single slit window on the ground floor as the smell of smoke invaded the tower. "Kami," Juushiro breathed.

Nanao, who had hurried in the opposite direction, banged on the door. When one of the shinigami guarding the place hauled it open, she snapped, "What's going on?"

"Oni, ma'am," the guard told her. "They've got some sort of siege machines."

Nanao spat a curse that made the guard blush before turning back to her captain. "Go," he told her, before she could say anything. "The Eighth needs you now more than I do."

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her book hard enough to dent its cover, but she gave him a brief bow. "Yes, sir." She hesitated. "Be careful."

Then she was gone in a flurry of black cotton, and the door slammed shut behind her. Juushiro slammed a fist against the wall. "Of all the times…" He took a deep breath and composed his features. "My apologies."

Shunsui wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I know. If Old Man Yama wasn't being so pigheaded, we'd be out there right now. But Nanao and Rukia will keep our divisions safe."

"I know." Juushiro's shoulders slumped for a second before he pulled them back straight. "But I will worry nonetheless."

As Shunsui pulled Juushiro into a hug, Starrk turned away. He didn't care much about the fate of the Seireitei, and the distress leaking through the cracks in Juushiro's mask left him feeling even more out of place. It was his fault the two were trapped in here — if he hadn't come, they'd be where they belonged.

_Of course, if you didn't come, Shunsui might be dead now_, a little voice whispered in his head. It sounded suspiciously like Lilynette.

Starrk frowned. _If I hadn't come, he wouldn't have been on that hillside in the first place_. Besides, Shunsui was a captain — he could take care of himself, as Starrk knew all-too-well.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He spun to see Shunsui with eyebrows lifted, giving him a crooked grin. "We'll figure this out," he promised.

"How?" Starrk couldn't prevent a hint of bitterness from leaking into his tone. "Your lieutenant admitted it herself — the council is going to take one look at me and order my execution." And, though it might give him a chance to see Lilynette again, he found that he didn't want to die. Not like that, at any rate.

Shunsui's grin broadened. "Then we don't give them that chance."

Juushiro covered his face with his hand. "Oh, Shunsui…" He heaved a sigh. "Nanao is going to murder both of us, you know."

"I notice you're not saying no," Shunsui observed.

Juushiro shook his head. "No. Starrk is right; the council will never give him a fair trial. But this is entirely the opposite of sitting and waiting."

Shunsui snorted. "I've never been good at that, and you know it."

* * *

By the end of their second day in the tower, Shunsui would have cheerfully murdered its original builders. Who had thought that a reiatsu-dampening prison was a brilliant plan?

_It is a brilliant plan_, Katen Kyokotsu informed him loftily. _As seen by the fact that you can't get out_.

He rolled his eyes. _Fine, it has its merits. When I'm not stuck in it_.

Truthfully, he'd never imagined himself imprisoned like this, much less in the middle of a siege. Nanao hadn't managed to visit again, so he was stuck wondering and worrying – was she staying safe out there? How close were the oni to breaching the walls? As a succession of enemies had proved over the years, even the best wards couldn't hold forever. And the crash of siege engines echoed through the tower day and night – Shunsui didn't know how much more the walls could take.

He snarled under his breath and spun to pace in another circle around the ground floor. Starrk, who was lounging against the wall, looked up with sleepy eyes. "Another idea to try?"

Shunsui threw up his hands. "I've got nothing. Between the reiatsu dampening and the guards…"

"Couldn't we just kill the guards next time they deliver food?" Starrk yawned. "They're just guards."

He'd suggested that before, and Shunsui had always shot him down. But, this time, to his shame, he hesitated. If they could just knock the guards out, maybe… He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt any of our own." And the guards weren't the easy targets Starrk assumed – they had plenty of tricks up their sleeves.

"Be patient," Juushiro urged. Exhaustion threaded through his tone, but his back was straight as he moved through a slow-motion kata.

"I'm done being patient. How much longer are they going to hold us before they realize they need us out there?" As soon as the oni broke through… Shunsui frowned. "Juu-chan, if the walls come down, will the wards come down as well?"

Juushiro paused in the middle of a punch. "I… believe so, yes. I believe they're tied to the physical structure."

Starrk glanced up. "The ones that prevent gargantas?" A spark flared in his eyes. "If those come down, I can get us out of here."

"Alright, maybe I can be patient for a bit longer." Shunsui's mouth stretched into a humorless grin. How much longer could it really be? And that would put him back with the Eighth at the moment when they'd most need him.

A particularly loud bang echoed through the room. Shunsui blinked, then trotted over to the window-slit to see a plume of dust rising over the city. Shouts and alarm bells followed it as black-clad shinigami converged, and his heart twisted – he should be with them. But this was the sign he wanted.

_So much for you learning patience_, Katen Kyokotsu sighed.

He ignored her. "Juu-chan, Starrk, get ready." He peered out the window. "I think the oni have finally…"

Another blast cut him off. He couldn't see anything this time – it must have come from a different direction – but he could feel the air shudder. A prickle ran over his skin.

Starrk rose and stretched his arms over his head. "Well." His grin was feral, a raw reminder that he was far from human. "Let's take a trip." He ripped open a black portal, and stepped through.

Shunsui and Juushiro followed on his heels.


	7. Back into the Fray

**Chapter 7: Back into the Fray**

The sands of Hueco Mundo were just as Starrk had left them three days ago – cold, silent, and empty. Though his hierro protected him, he shivered. How had he ever considered this place home?

With a wave of his hand, he closed the garganta behind Shunsui and Juushiro, then opened another one in the same place. The portal yawned, revealing a cobblestone alleyway; sunlight spilled in through the ragged edges. Sounds poured in too – shouts and screams mixing with the bellows of oni and the metallic clash of blades to form a cacophony that set his blood on fire.

As soon as the garganta solidified, Juushiro ran through, but Shunsui hesitated. "Will you…" He shook his head. "If you want to come back and visit, after this…"

Starrk barked a laugh. "None of that, shinigami." He wrapped his hand around his zanpakuto. "I'm coming with you."

Something close to relief lit up Shunsui's face. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?" He dove into the portal, and Starrk followed. This may be a major mistake, but he honestly couldn't think of a better way to spend his time right now. If that got him executed, so be it – at least he'd have a few hours in the sunlight first.

And, of course, in battle.

The scene on the other side of the garganta was pure chaos. Oni stampeded through the streets, smashing everything in sight with the massive spiked clubs that they all seemed to wield. Squads of shinigami set up defensive positions, but the oni barreled straight through them, turning the orderly formations into games of cat and mouse.

Juushiro glanced at the two of them as the portal zipped shut. "I need to find my division. Will you two be safe?"

Shunsui offered him a bow. "We will." Then, as a squad of shinigami sprinted past, he pulled Juushiro into a hard kiss. "You will too, right?"

Starrk looked away, then noticed that a pair of shinigami at the end of the squad had slowed to stare at him. He bared his teeth, and they yelped before sprinting away.

When he looked back at Shunsui, Juushiro was gone, and fire gleamed in Shunsui's eyes. "I should find my squad too. Want to come along?"

Starrk shrugged. "If they won't attack me on sight." Somehow, he suspected he'd get more than enough combat in today, no matter where he was.

Shunsui smirked. "They're used to a bit of weirdness by now."

Given the flamboyant captain, Starrk didn't doubt that. But a certain amount of worry lingered at the back of his mind nonetheless as he followed Shunsui over the rooftops. Weirdness was one thing, but the presence of an arrancar – an arrancar who should be in prison, no less – was more than mere oddity. He wasn't afraid of the shinigami, but he didn't want to hurt them, either. Or, well… he didn't want to hurt Shunsui, and hurting his division members would hurt him.

He dodged a stampeding oni and frowned. Of course he didn't care about the ordinary shinigami. He was an espada, after all, and they were his natural enemies. They'd cut him down on sight if he wasn't with one of their captains – he had no reason to care about them. The only reason he cared about Shunsui was the life-debt he owed the man… wasn't it?

Another two oni barreled in front of him. He cut the head off one, while Shunsui ran the other through, then kept running. Even in the privacy of his own mind, he could feel the way Lilynette would have laughed at him for declaring such a thing – she would have called him a liar-pants for sure, had he been foolish enough to explain his feelings to her.

Starrk grimaced. Maybe he should have stayed in Hueco Mundo after all… he'd come back to lose himself in the pure violence of combat for a while, not to trip himself up in tangles of messy thoughts.

He glanced at the pink kimono flickering ahead of him as Shunsui stepped in and out of shunpo. How was it that the man managed to be so graceful, yet so ludicrous? That flashy pink silk and oversized hat were hardly the garb of a warrior, yet, when he came into contact with the oni, every motion was economical. And vicious, as vicious as Grimmjow was – Shunsui had the same sort of feline style as the former sexta.

Not something Starrk would have expected before fighting him, but, given their clash in the fake city, he wasn't shocked. Surprised, though – somehow, he kept forgetting that the man was as lethal as he was.

Shunsui threw out an arm, and Starrk skidded to a halt. "We're here." He leapt off of the red-tiled roof into a courtyard filled with black-clad shinigami struggling against oni, then whistled. "Squad Eight, to me!"

Nanao flickered into sight. She'd exchanged her customary book for a short wakizashi, close to the length of a dagger, which she held with cool competence. "Welcome back, taicho." Her eyes slid to Starrk, but she made no comment. "What are your orders? I've arranged the division to provide defense for the surrounding neighborhoods, but the oni keep breaking through."

Shunsui scanned the courtyard, where the men and women were slowly falling back towards him. "Defense won't be enough – we need to push the oni back out the walls. I want half the division to form a defensive perimeter, and the other half concentrated here so we can start a sweep." He glanced around. "Have the civilians been evacuated to shelter?"

"Some." Nanao grimaced. "Not many, I'm afraid."

"Then that's the first priority of the defensive line. As the sweep moves ahead, I need you to organize rescue squads for anyone who may be hurt or trapped." Shunsui glanced at Starrk, who snorted.

"I won't be of much use there. I'll help the first line." No point in terrifying the people they were trying to save.

Shunsui hesitated, then gripped his shoulder. "Be careful."

Something deep inside Starrk warmed at the contact. "You too."

Shunsui glanced at Nanao, who heaved a sigh. "Yes, taicho, I'll watch him."

"Always ahead of me," Shunsui laughed, but there was a hint of unease behind it. He stepped closer to Starrk. "Keep her safe too, please."

"Taicho, I can hear you," Nanao told him dryly.

Starrk looked her up and down. She didn't have the overwhelming presence of some of the other lieutenants, and her short stature, plus glasses, gave her an innocent mien. But she held herself with the balance of a warrior, and her reiatsu was a coiled storm beneath her skin. Her gaze flicked around in a pattern only she knew, but there was clearly a pattern there — she wasn't panicked, but assessing the situation. Starrk let himself smile. "I think you'll be fine."

"Ganging up on me already," Shunsui muttered. Then, for some reason Starrk couldn't divine, the man flushed bright red. "Ah, anyway, you're free to go."

Nanao sheathed her wakizashi in her obi. "Squads four and five, with me. Squads six and seven, flank us. We're driving the oni out of here, one street at a time. Aim for the west gate."

"The, um, arrancar, ma'am?" a boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen asked.

"He's leading the charge," Nanao announced.

This was news to Starrk, but, looking over his new forces, he couldn't very well argue. Even without Lilynette's strength to call on, he was far more powerful than any of them.

And, sands, they were young… had shinigami always been that young? Most of them were truly that young, too, he suspected, not just slow to age like the little white-haired captain who'd fought Harribel. Their reiatsu had the fresh, tasty scent of potential.

No, not tasty, he corrected himself. These were Shunsui's people, which meant, for the time being, they were Starrk's to protect. He gave them a nod. "Let's move out."

* * *

One on one, the oni were no challenge for Starrk. Their spiked iron clubs were brutal, and they moved far faster than monsters that size had any right to, but they couldn't match Grimmjow's grace or Ulquiorra's cunning. Nor did they have Harribel's or Barragan's sheer power. But, like Harribel's fracciones, they fought in a pack, and their regenerative abilities made anything less than a killing strike useless. Cut off an arm, and they'd drop back behind their comrades, only to attack at full strength a minute later with the limb regrown.

And, like their first wave, there was no end of them in sight.

Starrk cut his way through a pack before Nanao's frustrated shouts penetrated his brain. "Slow down!" She snapped out her hand, and a loop of kido fire wrapped around his chest. "Haven't you ever fought with a group before?"

Starrk plucked the lasso off. "Ah… no."

"Right." Nanao paused for a second. "Well, you're leaving everyone behind, and that leaves a gap in our defenses."

She was right, Starrk realized, looking back at the clumps of shinigami struggling against a few oni stragglers. The broad street was painted blue with oni blood, but crimson was mixed in too. Half the buildings had been reduced to rubble; a black-clad body lay under some of the nearest rocks. Only one, and spirit energy still flickered around them, but still. Starrk rubbed the back of his neck.

Nanao pushed her glasses up her nose. "Do you object to following my orders?"

_I probably should_, Starrk realized. He was far stronger than her, after all. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. "Be my guest." This was her world, not his — there was no shame in admitting that.

A flicker of relief infused her reiatsu. "Right. Then…" She spun. "Squads, form up!" Her voice echoed through the street. A kido trick, Starrk assumed, as he had no idea how such a petite shinigami could yell so loudly otherwise. "Starrk, help squad five." She pointed at a ragtag group fighting against three oni, and losing.

Starrk didn't bother to answer before launching himself at the group. The shinigami recoiled for an instant, then steadied themselves as he beheaded the first oni. "Matsuri, Tomoki, on your feet!" one of the men barked.

As the shinigami obeyed, Starrk twisted, drawing a flat circle with his sword to slice open the second oni. It leapt back, then lashed out with its club, forcing him to sway aside. Blood dropped from its tusks as it grinned. "Why help shinigami, hollow lord? Are you their pet?"

Starrk countered with a pair of diagonal slashes, cutting an X through the air. Neither connected, and the oni laughed. "Good guard dog." It spun its club. "They'll throw you out like trash when they're done, you know."

Would they? They'd already imprisoned him once, but Shunsui and Juushiro had stood by him then. If Shunsui grew bored, though…

Among hollows, that was common. Strong attachments were dangerous — Starrk's fondness for Lilynette had been seen as an aberration, given her apparent weakness, until he revealed his resurrection. Then the mocking had stopped for him, but the espada had continued to taunt Harribel for the way she cared for her fracciones. Alliances weren't supposed to be permanent.

Starrk batted the thoughts away as he redoubled his attack. What did it matter, really? If the shinigami attacked him after the battle, as they were likely to do, then so be it. That didn't change the fact that, right now, the oni were his enemy.

The oni faltered under his renewed attack, and its swings went wild as it fought to pierce Starrk's hierro. Within moments, an overhand strike left its gut wide open; Starrk seized the chance.

As it toppled over, guts spilling out, a blast of fire streamed past him and incinerated its head. He turned to see Nanao, hand smoking, leaping down from a crumbling roof. "Fire's the only sure way to prevent regeneration," she told him, voice cool. "Or beheading, but fire is better." She scanned him briefly. "You look unhurt."

He shrugged. "Alone, they aren't much of a threat."

"To you, maybe." She looked past him to where two members of the squad were dragging a third out of the rubble. The oni they'd been fighting was dead, head a smoldering ruin, but none of the shinigami had escaped unscathed. The mix of red and blue blood left their skin a motley purple; several looked to be on their feet by force of will alone.

Starrk nodded at the shinigami being dragged out. "We'll have to leave some of them behind; they'll just be in the way otherwise."

Nanao's lips pressed together. "Here in the Soul Society, we do not abandon our comrades. Ever."

Starrk winced away from the ice radiating from her. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd said wrong — it wasn't like he'd suggested devouring them, the way hollows would — but he'd clearly missed something. "They can't fight, though," he pointed out.

This did not ease the stiffness in Nanao's shoulders. "That means we must protect them. We won't leave them out here to fall prey to the next oni to wander through."

"Can't your healers help them?" Guarding the injured didn't seem like a great way to push the oni back, as they'd originally been instructed to do. What were they supposed to do, stand in the street and wait?

Nanao's expression turned weary. "If we had enough of them, yes. But they're spread far too thin."

"Oh." Starrk glanced around. He had to admit, he'd felt very little spiritual pressure from the ordinary inhabitants of the city. The oni must have been mowing through them as though they were stalks of wheat, if they didn't have the presence of mind to hide.

_Or maybe even if they did_. He took a closer look at the rubble that had once been a building. Had it been a dwelling once? Aizen hadn't ever bothered to explain the layout of the Seireitei, and Starrk's understanding of mortal architecture was sketchy at best.

Nanao followed his gaze, then shook her head. "Reports say we've had few civilian casualties so far, and most have been accidental. But the fourth division is our smallest, and, when we've got twelve other divisions fighting…" She bit her lower lip. "I do wonder why the oni haven't engaged in wholesale slaughter… some odd concept of honor, perhaps?" She shook her head. "Immaterial now."

A bleeding shinigami women limped up before Nanao could say anything else. "Lieutenant, ma'am!" She attempted to bow, then straightened with a hiss, clutching her ribs.

"At ease," Nanao ordered. "What's your status?"

"Four serious casualties, no deaths. A host of minor injuries." The woman grimaced. "Better than it could have been, but not great."

"Not sustainable," Nanao muttered, raking her hand through her hair.

"What do we do, ma'am?" The soldier's face was tight, shoulders rigid as she stared at Nanao.

She tapped her fingers on the hilt of her zanpakuto. "We need to give Kyoraku-taicho's squads enough breathing room to complete their evacuation. We press on."

"And the wounded?" Starrk asked. If they were pressing the attack, they surely couldn't take the wounded shinigami with them.

Rather than answer, Nanao turned back to her subordinate. "Did you notice anything odd about the oni movements?"

"They don't stop attacking until they're dead or we are," the woman replied with a frown. "They seem to think that injured shinigami are just as dangerous as healthy ones." She shuddered.

Nanao chewed on her lower lip. "I spotted that too. Given their own regenerative capabilities, it makes sense… but it means that our wounded are going to be their first target." She turned to Starrk. "I need you to protect them. Can you do that?"

His first instinct was to say no. And she must have known that, for a mixture of determination and fear shone in her reiatsu as she stared up at him, waiting for his response. He grimaced. Guarding shinigami who couldn't fight… how much lower could a hollow stoop?

But he'd agreed to obey her, and Shunsui would be disappointed if he broke that promise now. So, reluctantly, he nodded.

Her eyebrows shot up before she got her expression under control. "I appreciate it." She turned back to her subordinate. "Collect your squad – we're pushing forward one more block."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the delayed update, everyone! I know it's been awhile. Unfortunately, the pandemic and normal life stress decided to combine and eat my motivation to write for a bit. But I'm getting back into it!

If you're enjoying this, please leave a review - reviews keep fanfic authors writing!


	8. Sometimes, Freedom is Overrated

**Chapter 8: Sometimes, Freedom is Overrated**

Shunsui hated to admit it, but there was something elemental and pure about fighting. Spinning, slicing, dancing through the hordes of oni... when his world narrowed to muscle and bone and the flash of Katen Kyokotsu's blades, everything became crystal clear. A hundred times better than the paperwork he almost never did.

He ducked under a windmill punch and stabbed his shorter sword into the oni's armpit. The red-skinned monster toppled as the blade found its heart, and Shunsui spun to decapitate it before it could regenerate. Blue blood fountained up.

Behind him, he could hear his lower-ranked officers barking orders to the rescue squads, pulling civilians from the rubble and strapping the injured to stretchers so they could be carried to the infirmary. More civilians fled under their own power, and Shunsui prayed they had the sense to run straight to the division. But, even as he watched, a few people peeled off, and he grimaced. _Idiots_.

_We could end this all in a heartbeat_, Katen Kyokotsu whispered. _Just release me_.

_I'd like to have a city when this is all done_, Shunsui snapped back. _As well as people to live in that city_.

_Even the stupid ones?_ She sent him a mental wash of skepticism.

He sighed. _To be fair, they probably aren't stupid_. In all likelihood, they were running to find friends or relatives, and he couldn't blame them for that. It might be stupid – it wasn't like they could do anything if their loved one was trapped or dead – but it was also human.

_Weak_, Katen Kyokotsu muttered, but without any venom.

_Just concentrate on killing the oni_, Shunsui told her. _We have plenty of good targets right here_.

In reality, too many targets. How many oni were there? The hordes felt endless, and it wasn't all due to their regenerative abilities. No matter how many he killed, more kept coming.

And coming.

And coming.

As another wave crashed over him and his warriors, he leapt back into the fray, but the question lingered in the back of his mind. Why now? What had driven the oni to attack in such numbers and with such ferocity at this point in time? Single tribes would harass travelers that passed through the mountains, but he'd never heard of such a concerted attack. It was as if someone had found a way to unite them...

A chill ran down his spine. He cut down an oni with a double thrust to its kidneys, followed by a blast of kido fire, then whirled to behead an oni sneaking up behind him. Someone uniting the oni... it sounded all-too-similar to the way Aizen had brought the hollows together. Did they have another Aizen on the loose?

He blocked an iron club swinging towards his shoulder, then returned the blow with Katen Kyokotsu's longer blade. The oni dodged and punched at the same time, and he swayed backwards, but the oni's fist caught him in the gut. He doubled over, gasping.

Before the oni could lash out again, though, his fifth seat vaulted over the body of a dead oni and fired a kido blast directly into the back of Shunsui's attacker. It toppled forward like a dead tree, and the woman followed up with a fireball to the head. Shunsui nodded at her. "Good job."

She beamed, but her smile faltered as she looked around. "Taicho, is this really going to work? There's so many of them..."

Her words mirrored his own thoughts, but he refused to show worry to a subordinate, so he flashed her a grin. "There are lots of us, too. And look!" He gestured at the oni bodies lying in the street. "Block by block, we'll force them back."

She bowed, renewed determination shining on her face. "Yes, sir!"

As he watched her flash away, his confident grin faded. Forcing them back was only a stopgap measure – given their healing abilities, the oni could just keep coming.

_Unless you eradicate them all_, Katen Kyokotsu pointed out. Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Shunsui's stomach turned. Sometimes, despite everything, he forgot how bloodthirsty his zanpakuto could be. _Absolutely not. They're thinking creatures, just like you and me_.

_They're trying to kill you. You'd be happy to wipe out all the hollows, wouldn't you?_

Once, he would have said yes without a qualm. Killing a hollow wasn't like killing a person – hollows weren't alive. If anything, it was better for the souls trapped inside the hollow, freeing them to move on to their next incarnation.

But that was before he'd met Starrk and the other arrancar. They were no mindless beasts looking only for their next meal – they were as much people as any shinigami. Maybe they were in the minority, but... he grimaced. _No_.

_After how many years, now you're turning soft?_ Katen Kyokotsu snorted.

Shunsui rolled his eyes. _May I remind you, my lady, that you were the one who demanded that I heal him?_

As he'd expected, she ignored that. _You're still soft_.

He shrugged. _Maybe_. But he wasn't about to wipe out all the oni tribes just because his zanpakuto wanted him to.

No, he had to find another way to resolve this – a way to get the oni to withdraw peacefully. And that meant finding out what had driven them here in the first place.

* * *

Evening was drawing near by the time the oni retreated. Shunsui had no hope that it would be for good – he'd bet his last bottle of sake they'd be back in the morning. But he welcomed the breathing space nonetheless.

Everything hurt. Blue blood mingled with crimson on his white haori, turning it a garish purple; his black shihakusho was sodden with sweat and gore. Though he'd avoided major injuries, a plethora of bruises and cuts marked his skin, and he'd pulled something in his shoulder when trying to lift a beam off a trapped civilian. _I'm getting too old for this_.

But manic energy kept him pacing in front of the gates to his division, peering into the growing dusk for Nanao and Starrk to return. He maintained enough presence of mind to nod at the shinigami limping into the gates, congratulating them on their bravery and urging them to rest, but he barely heard their responses. Where the hell were his lieutenant and his arrancar?

_No, not his_, he corrected himself, as Katen Kyokotsu snickered. Starrk was... well, not his.

_But you'd like him to be, wouldn't you?_ Katen Kyokotsu teased, for once without acid in her tone.

It had been decades since Shunsui had blushed, but he found himself flushing now. _That's hardly relevant at the moment_. Especially not when the arrancar in question was nowhere to be seen. _Starrk, Nanao..._ They had to be safe. Both were incredible fighters, more than skilled enough to take on the oni, and they'd had a full complement of squads at their back. They were just... mopping up, or something.

Weren't they?

He paced a line in front of the gates. It wasn't proper behavior for a captain, but he couldn't bring himself to care – he was allowed a bit of worry now and then.

Air puffed out around him. "You're going to wear a rut in the dirt if you keep moving like that."

Shunsui spun to see Nanao and Starrk drop out of shunpo, panting like they'd sprinted across the entire Seireitei. Both were covered in blood, guts, and less-mentionable fluids, but they were on their feet and smiling, and that was all he cared about.

Or, well, Nanao was fighting back a smile, while Starrk had his normal laconic expression on, but same thing.

Shunsui grabbed Nanao and pulled her into a desperate kiss, heedless of the shinigami passing by. If they didn't know by now, well, he didn't care.

She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him fiercely for a second, then pushed him away. "On duty, remember?" If she'd had her fan, she would have rapped his knuckles with it.

Shunsui held her at arm's length for a moment, hands on her shoulders, then sighed and let them drop. "Fine." He turned to Starrk and rubbed at the back of his neck. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to kiss him, too, would it?

_No, probably not_. He sighed. "How did it go out there?"

Nanao grimaced. "We can't keep this up. We evacuated several neighborhoods, but the Seireitei is too big for us to set up a proper defensive perimeter against enemies like these. Unless we can push them all the way past the walls, and set up the wards again in such a way that they can't break through..." She shook her head.

"I was worried about that." Now that he knew Nanao and Starrk were safe, the panicked energy that had kept him upright was draining away. He slumped against the outer wall of the division. "I was wondering... Starrk, how did Aizen unite all of you?"

The arrancar lifted his shoulders in a forced-casual shrug. "The espada, you mean? He promised us what we most wanted to hear." His eyes narrowed. "You think someone did that for the oni?"

"Something's driving them," Shunsui pointed out. "We haven't had any major skirmishes with them in centuries, and now a full-blown attack like this?" If it had been a hollow attack, he would have assumed that someone was trying to take over Aizen's empty throne, but the oni didn't have that same history. Though they might have noticed the weariness of Soul Society's defenders...

"No." Nanao folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, no. I know you. You are not going to hare off on some sort of suicide mission because you think there's a wannabe Aizen behind all this. You have a division to run."

"I have a division to protect," Shunsui corrected. "And, if I'm right..." He shrugged. "Cut off the head of the snake, and all that."

"Absolutely not." Kido fire swirled around Nanao's hands.

"I'll go."

Starrk ran a hand through his hair as they both turned to look at him. "What? You need to find out who's behind this, right? Or if there's someone behind it. So I'll go."

"Starrk, you..." Shunsui began, reaching towards him.

But the former primera was already gone.

Shunsui pressed his fingertips to his temple as he turned back to Nanao. "This is not going to end well." He wanted to yell, but not at her, and he was too tired to find a better target.

She laid a hand on his arm. "Taicho, maybe it's better this way. He can take care of himself – trust me, I saw that today. And the oni may not be alert for hollow reiatsu. Plus..." She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. "I could feel both you and him as soon as you emerged from the tower. Yamamoto-soutaicho must have felt it as well."

Shunsui reached for his hip flask, but it was empty. He groaned. "Where is the old man, anyway?" Normally, Yamamoto's fiery reiatsu would have been noticeable from halfway across the city.

"I don't know." Nanao tucked her hands into her sleeves. "But I suspect his absence is the only thing keeping you, Starrk, and Juushiro free."

Part of Shunsui wanted to deny that. The old man who'd tutored him and Juu-chan when they were young captains, who'd encouraged them to take on more responsibility as they came into their powers? He wouldn't have been so reactionary.

But Yamamoto had changed, as all of them had. Sometimes, Shunsui didn't know the man who looked out of those fiery eyes, staring at the world with suspicion and fear and regret, and he didn't want to. What sort of responsible leader imprisoned two of his captains in the midst of a siege? Even if he'd truly believed that they'd betrayed him...

But that was the problem. After Aizen, Yamamoto saw traitors everywhere, and was determined not to let them get away like the former captain of the fifth had. If that meant losing two of his best fighters at a time when he desperately needed them, then so be it.

Shunsui pushed himself away from the wall. "I need a drink, a shower, and about a year of sleep, in that order. Want to come?"

Nanao hesitated, then shook her head. "I should check in on a few folks from my squads first." She touched his forearm. "I'll see you later."

Every fiber in him longed to kiss her again, to sweep her off to bed and never let her go, but he kept his hands still as she strode off. Her dedication was one of the many things he loved about her, and he would never want her to lose it.

Even in moments like these.


	9. The Rules of Hospitality

**Chapter 9: The Rules of Hospitality**

The city was as silent as the deserts of Hueco Mundo as Starrk flashed from rooftop to rooftop. It was as though the sinking sun had chased everyone indoors – he didn't see a single soul the entire trip. Plenty of broken buildings and rubble, and the occasional body, yes, but no one living.

Then he made it to the wall.

Most of the wall was untouched by the fighting – the oni had broken through in several places, and hadn't bothered leveling the wall as a whole. It was what hollows would have done, too, for the denizens of Hueco Mundo had little use for walls and buildings, but it struck Starrk as odd in the Seireitei. If the shinigami could force the oni out of the city, they'd have a few choke points to defend, giving them a large advantage. Were the oni simply overconfident, then? Or was something else going on?

In the growing dusk, the farmland beyond the wall was an undifferentiated mass, broken only by dots of firelight scattered across the land. Shadowy figures moved around the fires, and Starrk could smell roasting meat on the breeze. There didn't seem to be a single hub or central meeting point – instead, the oni had scattered themselves in a relatively even swathe throughout the countryside.

Starrk sighed. Of course the oni couldn't make this easy. Had Aizen been leading the attack, his presence would have been obvious – he wasn't the sort to stay surreptitious for very long. But the oni leader – if there was one – had to be of a different sort.

_Well, no help for it_. It wasn't like he needed rest, per se, and the adrenaline of fighting had woken him up a bit.

As he jumped off the wall, he would have sworn he heard a giggle in his ear. But, when he landed and spun, there was nothing there. His heart pinched. _Oh, Lilynette... you'd love this_. She'd never been good at sneaking around, but she'd always loved to try it. Spying on the other arrancar and their fracciones had been one of her favorite ways of killing time, even when it got her yelled at.

But she wasn't here to giggle and prance around in the darkness, sure that no one could see her. And maybe that was a good thing, for he had no desire to enrage the entire oni army, but... _Lilynette, why?_

His throat tightened. The blood and heat of the battle had washed his mind clean for a time, but he couldn't recall that feeling now.

His gaze slid to the left. A hundred yards away, an oni camp lurked – five or six hulking forms slumped around a blazing fire, with several more pacing back and forth. If he strode into their midst, demanded to be taken to their leader... well, it would get a reaction, wouldn't it? Already, he could almost taste the tension in the air as the oni decided to attack or yield, the spark before the lightning struck.

He took two steps closer to the fire, then stopped. The rising tide fizzing in his veins subsided a fraction as he stared at the fire and the oni crouched there, tallying up the visible weapons. If he marched in there and demanded to be taken to their leader, and they fought back... well, it wouldn't stay at that one fire, would it? And even he couldn't fight off the entire horde.

Oh, it would be glorious, though...

_But Shunsui will be pissed if I don't come back_.

Starrk faded back a step, and the fizzing in his blood faded. Sneaking it was.

* * *

The first hour was singularly unproductive. The oni didn't talk much, and their conversations focused on the food, the day's fights, and their opinions of shinigami – nothing that gave Starrk any clues about why they'd chosen now, of all times, to attack. While they seemed to hold shinigami in the same low regard that he held lesser hollows, none of them mentioned any sort of specific recent grievance.

When Aizen had gathered his espada together, he'd had a clear goal in mind, and had made sure that all of his recruits shared that. Sure, he'd offered them all their greatest desires, but he'd also made it clear that those dreams came with a price. Not that it had been a hard price, honestly – 'kill all shinigami' was something that few hollows would argue with. But a price, nonetheless.

So what price were these oni paying? Was it as simple as 'kill all shinigami,' or did their leader have something else in mind?

Or maybe that wasn't the right question. He drifted through the darkness to the outskirts of another group, senses alert for oni scouts, but his thoughts were elsewhere. What had the oni leader or leaders offered their troops?

An oni stumbled out of the darkness no more than five feet away from Starrk. The espada froze, yanking his reiatsu into his core, and held his breath as the oni stomped back into the circle of firelight. _Too close, Starrk, too close_, he chided himself. The oni had better night vision than humans – if that oni had been paying any attention, she would have spotted Starrk in a second.

But the oni around the fire welcomed her with back-slaps and a piece of something dripping fat, and Starrk dared to breathe again. For once, luck was with him.

Then, as he stepped forward again, the oni raised her head. "Something's out there."

"Shinigami?" a voice grated.

She sniffed the air. "No. Something that smells of death."

_Well, that tears it_. An electric thrill that he couldn't deny ran through Starrk as he tensed, one hand reaching for his sword. _Had to happen sooner or later_. Now the oni hordes would come, and fight, and die. And he? _I'm sorry, Shunsui_.

That hurt. He didn't want it to hurt, but it did, and he grimaced.

Then, before the oni could stand up and come looking for him, he plastered a lazy, shit-eating grin on his face and strolled into their circle of firelight.

The oni bolted to their feet. Iron clubs rose to defensive positions as spirit energy surged, filling the air with a musky reek, and Starrk let his own energy rise to match it. Then, as the oni stared at him, he furled his power again. "Good nose."

The oni who'd scented him bared her teeth. "Shinigami dog. Why are you here?"

He lifted his chin so the bone teeth around his neck were clearly visible. "I'm no one's dog. And that's none of your business." He ran his gaze around the circle. "Unless you're the leader of this whole motely pack?"

Inside, lightning flickered through his veins. This situation could turn south in a heartbeat, and he knew it – he hadn't felt this alive since Lilynette had died. The hole in the center of his chest throbbed like a heartbeat. Every whisper of sound, every trickle of scent… he could sense it all.

Cold, cruel howling filled the back of his mind.

The oni snorted. "No collar, sure. But you fight with them today."

"I'll take that as a no." Starrk spun in a circle, attempting to channel Grimmjow at his most arrogant. "Any of you the leader? No? Then take me to them."

"Clan lords don't speak with mongrels." The female oni spat on the ground. "But we'll take them your head!"

Starrk had been waiting for something like that. As the oni leapt for him, he let his reiatsu surge back out. His katana leapt into his right hand, while the blue glow of a cero filled his left.

The oni was moving too fast to pull back as he pivoted and spitted her. "Now." He eyed the remaining group as she grabbed his blade, still moving despite being speared through the chest. "Let's try this again."

The oni hauled the blade free by the simple expedient of stepping backwards. Blood poured down her chest, but her laugh held no fear. "You think it's that simple to kill us?" She pressed her palm against her chest, then showed him the bloody fingers. "Foolish cur."

The howling grew louder as Starrk sighed. "That? That was just to get your attention." The cero flared in his fingers. "This, however, will kill you."

The oni surrounding him hesitated. By sound and scent, he tallied their positions – three behind, two to the sides, and the female right in front of him. Not good odds – his hierro could only take so much punishment – but he'd take down most of them before they could scratch him. And, if he let his reiatsu roam free like it desired…

The mere thought sent it surging outwards to taste the oni's energy. They faltered at the surge of pressure, and he grinned without humor. Within the Seireitei, he didn't dare unleash that kind of strength. Here? Even without Lilynette, they should fear him.

"Fine." The female oni spat once more. "Come with me, mongrel. The warlords will choose your fate."

Starrk furled his reiatsu and sheathed his katana. "That's all I asked."

* * *

Warlords, it turned out, was the right term. The female oni led him to a campfire like any other, set among the rest of the fires with nothing to distinguish it apart from the acrid scent of fear that rose from his guide as they approached. "There." She gestured to the four oni seated around the fire ten yards away. "Speak with them, if you dare."

"You're not going to introduce me?" Starrk asked mildly.

A cross between a laugh and a whine issued from her throat. "I'm not suicidal, mongrel. Though apparently you are."

Was he? Maybe. He shrugged. "Not like you care."

She snorted. "Next time I see you, you'll be hanging from your heels like a dead rat. Enjoy the night while you can."

Starrk didn't bother to enlighten her as to what happened to arrancar after they died. "My thanks." He offered her a bow.

Then, as she gaped at him, he walked into the circle of the four warlords.

Unlike their clans-people, the warlords made no visible sign of surprise at his arrival. All four remained sitting, gnawing on chunks of meat as they studied him with visible disdain on their brick-red faces. Even when he let some of his strength seep out of his skin, he could scent no fear from them, and he had to respect that. They were predators through and through – in the deserts, they would have been opponents to fear.

But neither he nor they were in their home territories now. He kept his hands in his pockets as he gave them all a little bow. "You four lead this horde, I take it?"

The one nearest him sniffed at the air. "You reek of blood. But not yours."

He heaved a sigh. "Is that a yes?" Let them yield to him, even slightly, on this, and he'd have the upper ground.

A second warlord yawned, tusks glinting in the firelight. "Kill him now, or save him for later?"

Starrk refused to rise to such obvious bait. Instead, he settled into seiza on the ground in front of the fire, then sank back onto his heels. "You know, hospitality would dictate a bit more… politeness. Tea, even." Not that he wanted to ever drink the filthy stuff again, after so many interminable meetings with Aizen. But they didn't have to know that.

All four warlords – all were women, he realized – burst into laughter. He waited, every muscle ready to leap, until they'd finished. Then he slipped a hand from his pockets and ran it through his hair. "Look. I want to make a deal."

One of the oni leaned forward, necklace of small skulls rattling. "I like you, hollow. It's a pity you're dead soon."

Starrk permitted himself a thin smile. "Why do you think I'm here? I have no interest in dying yet."

As they absorbed that, he tasted the words, then blinked. When had that become true?

Guilt pierced him, enough to make him miss the oni's next words. _Lilynette, I'm sorry_. If he stayed in this world, he'd never see her again, never hear her laugh or feel her bounce on his stomach to wake him up from a nap. Would she be able to move on, or was she trapped now, somehow bound to him?

The oni cleared her throat, and he jerked back to the present. She snorted. "Dreaming already? They say, the dreams when you die are true." Her black tongue swiped over red lips. "Are your dreams true, hollow?"

He tapped the collar of bones around his throat. "See this? Means I'm dead already. And the dead don't dream."

If the oni could smell the lie, they gave no sign of it. Instead, their self-appointed spokesperson snickered. "Brave, for a dead man walking. Why are you here?"

He laid his palms on his knees. "I told you. I want to make a deal."

The quartet looked at each other. "For what?" one asked.

"You're here to kill, right? Destroy the shinigami, loot their city?"

Again, they looked at each other before answering. "Yes."

He leaned forward. "Swear to bring me one shinigami's head, and I'll cede the field to you." As he spoke, he let a touch of his power out – just enough for them to sense his fury and bitterness. All his despair over the loss of Lilynette, all his hate at the one who'd led to her death… he let them taste all of it.

The spokesperson flicked her tongue over her lips. "Describe her."

"Him." Starrk leaned back. "Short brown hair, dark eyes, wields a sword with a green-wrapped hilt. Usually has a tendril of hair hanging in front of his face. His power tastes of ashes and blood."

"All shinigami taste like blood," the oni replied scornfully. "Why can't you kill him yourself?"

Starrk summoned up a memory of Aizen's face as he cut down Harribel. Again, he let a touch of his own reiatsu free, and prayed they wouldn't feel the lie in it. "He's too strong."

Another glance bounced between the four. He pulled his power back in and breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was, after all, the truth – just not the whole truth.

"Too strong." All four of the oni snickered, and their spokesperson shook her head. "Why should we bother facing him, then?"

Starrk did his best not to let his eagerness show on his face. "What, you think you can conquer a city and leave its strongest fighters alive?"

The oni snorted. "We have no use for that stinking heap of rubble."

Starrk rolled his eyes. "Like I believe that." Now he summoned up Lilynette's snark whenever someone annoyed her. "You don't martial a force like this for nothing."

Yet another glance between the quartet – Starrk was getting rather tired of the silent communication. The spokesperson bared her teeth. "The city doesn't interest us. And you don't need to know what does." She curled her lip.

It was too much to hope that they would spill their secrets immediately, but Starrk tried one more time. "So, what, you're here for revenge for something? Trust me. Whatever it is, you'll face him sooner or later."

"Maybe we will." The oni's grin was feral. "If he's as strong as you say, it will be a pleasure to take him down." She glanced at her companions, then rose and started pacing. Starrk tensed.

Another one of the oni barked a laugh. "What would you do, hollow, if someone stole something irreplaceable? Would you rend them from limb to limb?"

Again, Starrk thought of Aizen. That smug face, with that little smile, and that awful, violet haze surrounding him… "I'd do far worse than that," he replied with perfect sincerity. The howling in his head yelped with glee.

"Then, hollow, we accept your deal." A weighted net crashed down on him, and his reiatsu guttered like a candle.

The spokesperson, who he'd been foolish enough to take his eyes off of for a split second, laughed. "Enjoy our hospitality, hollow. We hope you find it adequate."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Stay safe out there, everyone. #BlackLivesMatter


	10. Shades of Betrayal

**Chapter 10: Shades of Betrayal**

When Starrk didn't return by midnight, Shunsui started to worry. The espada was strong, yes, as strong as any shinigami captain, but he was just one person. Had he been captured? Or, worse, killed?

But the sentries who stood along the wall reported no disturbances, and he tried to tell himself that that was a good sign. Gathering information took time, especially if Starrk was hiding while doing it – it might take him a few hours just to get into a good position. Just because he wasn't back yet didn't mean that anything was wrong. He was probably just being cautious.

But, as the sky began to lighten in advance of the dawn, something inside of Shunsui cracked. Even Sui-Feng couldn't hide amidst an army in the full light of day. If Starrk wasn't back by now...

Shunsui rose from his cot and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as he made his way out to his back porch. His eyes were sticky and his muscles ached – a few hours tossing and turning had done nothing to restore him from the fight yesterday. But, every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd seen Starrk lying in the rubble of the fake Karakura town, bleeding out from a puncture wound in his gut – the puncture wound caused by Katen Kyokotsu's blade.

He tugged the blanket tighter around himself as he sat on the dew-damp wood. No, a bit of exhaustion was a small price to pay to avoid that kind of nightmare. Nanao would be awake soon, and she made the best coffee he'd ever tasted – caffeine could serve as a substitute for sleep for today.

As the first rays of sun crept over the horizon, a whisper of reiatsu heralded the approach of Juushiro. The white-haired captain was already clad in his shihakusho and haori; his zanpakuto rested in its sheath at his hip. Despite the early hour, his reiatsu bore no signs of sleepiness, just a bone-deep exhaustion that deepened the lines of his face as he sat beside Shunsui.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Shunsui let his hand fall to rest on Juushiro's knee, savoring the simple contact. As always, Juushiro's reiatsu held the calm of an ocean, and it lapped against his fingers, filling the air with the scent of sea salt. His own reiatsu, redolent with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, rose to meet it, and he sighed.

Juushiro laid a hand over his. "He's out there, isn't he?"

He didn't need to specify who he was referring to. Shunsui nodded. "By his own choice. Yet, somehow, it will still be my fault if he dies."

"No." Juushiro squeezed his hand. "No more than it would be his if you died, or yours if I did."

"Don't say such a thing." Shunsui's heart clenched tight, and he swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. "Don't you dare." He turned his hand to interlace their fingers. _Don't you dare leave me_. He'd seen far too many shinigami fall, over the years – Juushiro wasn't allowed to be one of them.

Juushiro chuckled softly. "I have no plans, never fear." He rested his head on Shunsui's shoulder. "Love, you're freezing. Are you truly that worried for him?"

Shunsui hesitated. "I know he's an espada. Worse, the primera, at least under Aizen. But…" It wasn't hard to see that Starrk had a death wish. Something was tying him to life, still, but Shunsui didn't know what – didn't know how fragile that thread was. If confronting the oni army was his way of committing suicide… well, it wouldn't be the first time Shunsui had seen that, either. Warriors too proud to give up, but in too much pain to continue, had often chosen to throw themselves against oncoming hollow hordes, and let the fires of battle snuff out their life.

He'd lost one of his first lieutenants like that, shortly after becoming a captain. He'd been a courageous fighter, one of the best shinigami Shunsui had ever met, but something had ridden him. And, one day, when the weight had become too great…

He forced his thoughts away from the past. Starrk wouldn't do that – he had something to come back to. And he knew that, didn't he?

_You know, I don't think you ever told him_, Katen Kyokotsu murmured.

Well, wasn't that clichéd? He grimaced. "I'll tell him when he gets back."

"Tell him… ah." Juushiro sighed. "Sometimes, Shunsui…"

"You don't approve." Shunsui pulled his reiatsu inward to conceal the sudden turmoil in his heart. If Juushiro, the man he'd loved – and, occasionally, hated – since their time at the Academy, didn't approve…

Juushiro remained silent for long enough to make Shunsui sweat before shaking his head. "Actually, no." He sat up to look Shunsui in the eye. "I can see why you're drawn to him, and, despite the mask, he seems to be a good soul. But… it won't be an easy road."

"Old Man Yama can only complain for so long," Shunsui replied, with a lightness he didn't feel.

Juushiro lifted delicate eyebrows. "You know as well as I that that's not true. Personally, I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in that damn tower."

The curse word, mild as it was, made Shunsui blink. "Are you…" He bit his lip. Juushiro never cursed, but there was something in his tone that made Shunsui uneasy. "What's wrong, love?"

The white-haired captain sighed and looked away. "I wish I knew." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yamamoto-soutaicho hasn't appeared on the battlefield since the oni broke through the wards. And the attack itself, coming out of nowhere as it did… there is something else going on here. But I cannot figure out what."

"That's why Starrk went to spy on the oni," Shunsui admitted. "He wanted to find out who – or what – was driving them. But he left yesterday evening."

"Captured, you think?" Juushiro chewed on his lower lip.

"I can only pray." Surely, if he'd been killed, he would have put up a fight large enough to be seen from the walls. His hierro alone would have protected him from most blows, and those ceros of his would have lit up the night had he had a chance to use them.

Juushiro squeezed his hand. "He'll return," he promised softly.

"He?" a sleep-mazed voice asked from behind them. Nanao, holding two cups of steaming coffee, padded onto the deck. She wore nothing but a worn yukata that swirled around her calves, fluttering as she walked. "Starrk isn't back yet?"

She handed a cup to Shunsui, who gratefully inhaled the steam. The bitter scent of roasted beans, with just a hint of caramel, woke him up before the liquid even touched his tongue. "You are a wonder, as always."

She flushed a pretty pink, then offered the second cup to Juushiro. "I didn't realize you'd come over, or I would have made some tea."

He waved her away. "No, no, I'm fine. Drink – you look like you need it."

She sank into seiza on Shunsui's unoccupied side. Her hair was tangled from sleep, and dark shadows shone under her eyes, but her movements were as graceful as ever. "I doubt any of us got much sleep last night." She kissed Shunsui's cheek, then sipped at her own coffee. "So, Starrk?"

Shunsui slumped forward over his cup. "If the kami favor him, he lives. But he hasn't returned."

"Do you think he's been captured, then? Or merely delayed?"

"None of the sentries heard or saw any signs of combat during the night, as of their last report." He sighed. "I want to think that's a good sign, that he's still sneaking around somewhere, but…"

The gong of alarm bells cut off the rest of his words. Nanao shot to her feet without spilling a drop of coffee, face hardening into her normal calm mask, while Shunsui groaned. "Well, back at it, I guess." No rest for the wicked.

* * *

As the bells tolled, the oni leaders lifted carved bone horns to their lips and blew a long, low note. A shiver ran through Starrk's bones at the mournful sound. All around him, oni marched towards the Seireitei walls, an inexorable red tide whose footsteps shook the ground as they moved. There was no real organization that he could see, but, given their numbers and their sheer strength, that didn't matter.

The quartet blew another loud note, drowning out the warning bells. Starrk fought to rise, cursing the net that had entangled him. "You know," he remarked, as one of the leaders took a breath, "You didn't have to retreat outside the walls last night."

She favored him with a disdainful stare. "And spend the night in that treacherous city? It is the work of moments to regain the ground we lose yesterday – the shinigami cannot keep us out." She seized the trailing ends of the net and hauled him forward like a fish. "Come, hollow. You accompany us today."

For a moment, Starrk considered fighting. The net had him trapped, yes, but it couldn't take away his hierro and natural speed. The oni warlord held the ends in a loose fist – she wasn't expecting an attack from him. If he pulled away, he could free himself.

But then what? Slaughtering the four wouldn't get him any answers, and he wasn't assured a victory even there. Strange power, reiatsu that tasted of salt and desert winds, wreathed the warlords, and their horns held a magic all their own. And, even if he could take them down, he couldn't take down the entire army.

As he'd realized last night, he didn't want to die yet. And he did want to bring Shunsui some answers. So he followed meekly after the oni.

He expected her to lead him to the walls, or another safe vantage point, but the quartet cut through the horde like a hot knife through butter. Oni fell in behind them, until the warlords formed the point of a spear aimed at the heart of the Seireitei. The sound of their horns surrounded them, and the oni who followed took up the ululating call, filling the air with wild cries. Again, Starrk shivered.

Then the spear burst through the walls, and the fighting began in earnest.

He didn't recognize the insignia of the division facing them, and he was grateful for that – better, far better, if Shunsui and Juushiro didn't see him in this state. The shinigami themselves were unremarkable, but their lieutenant, a red-haired warrior with spiky tattoos covering his body, fought with the power Starrk would have expected from a captain.

When he spotted Starrk, he gaped, elongated blade pausing its whirl. Then he barked something at a shinigami, who sped off into the city as the lieutenant leapt back into the fray. Starrk winced. So much for avoiding the humiliation of Shunsui seeing him like this.

The warlord holding the net looked between him and the lieutenant, then snorted. "New plan, hollow." She whipped the net off of him. "You want that shinigami captain killed? You do us a favor first."

As the net lifted off of Starrk, reiatsu flooded back into his body, and tension that he hadn't realized he'd been carrying melted away. His shoulders relaxed, iron bands around his ribcage loosening, and he took a deep breath. "Favor? I already did you one favor, by removing myself from the fight. What more do you want?"

"You have your freedom now, don't you?" She smirked, tusks glinting in the sunlight. "Lead us to the heart of the city."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You mean the giant palace next to the equally giant cliff?" It wasn't exactly hard to find. And she couldn't expect him to have any sort of secret knowledge of the city – she had to realize that hollows were not generally welcome guests of the shinigami.

The warlord rolled her eyes. "We've watched you fight, hollow. None of these ants stand a chance against you."

"Or you," he pointed out, skin growing cold. She wanted him to fight against the shinigami? He did his best to hide his shock behind a mask of boredom, but revulsion simmered in his gut. He couldn't care less about the humans, but the thought of Shunsui's face if Starrk massacred another division…

"Then this should be easy," she returned. "Get us to the heart of the city, and we will find your captain and kill him."

Almost, he refused out of hand. But, as he pulled his reiatsu inwards to form a cero, he paused, for the look on her face was not one of malice. Her tusks and horns made it hard to read her expression, but her eyes were calm and cold, not burning with fury or bloodlust. Whatever she wanted in the inner city, it wasn't a slaughter.

The warlords had asked him, last night, what he would do if someone stole something irreplaceable. Was that what drove them now? Had the shinigami stolen something vital from them?

Aizen, at least, would have had no qualms about doing so, if the oni held something that he wanted. How many other shinigami would think the same way? Not Shunsui, not Juushiro, surely, but others? Others who saw the oni as brutes, just as they saw the hollows?

Starrk grimaced. The oni were strong, but he was faster – he could flashstep away, bring this new theory to Shunsui, and let the captains handle it. If the shinigami all assembled to protect the palace, they'd be able to drive the oni off, at least temporarily – maybe permanently, if the captains could kill the four warlords.

Even then, though, others would step up to lead. The oni would keep attacking, and the streets would run with blood, gutters filled with rotting bodies and offal. It wouldn't end until one side wiped out the other, would it?

He sighed. So much death… he was so tired of death. Hueco Mundo did not need more souls to fill its echoing deserts.

He looked at the warlord. "If you get what you want, will you leave?"

She snorted. "We don't want this filthy city. Give us clean mountain air and fresh mountain streams and all the prey we can eat, and we are content."

"Fine." He heaved another sigh. "Then let's get this over with."

* * *

When Shunsui received the message from the Sixth, his heart skipped a beat. Starrk, captured? He'd suspected it, but the confirmation was still a heavy weight on his shoulders. How had the espada been subdued without a single sign of combat? Had he simply… given up?

Shunsui's throat was tight as he glanced at Nanao. "Love…" He cut himself off. The fighting was lighter today, currently in a lull, but the oni were still pressing forward. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't abandon his division and call himself a captain.

But, to his surprise, his lieutenant gave him a soft smile. "Go." She didn't need to ask what she wanted – she'd heard the messenger too. "Find him. I'll take care of things here."

He desperately wanted to kiss her in that moment, but, in front of the troops, didn't dare. Everyone knew their captain and lieutenant were together, just as they knew Shunsui and Juushiro were together, but Shunsui still tried to keep personal and professional separate.

Sometimes. He leaned forward and pecked her cheek quickly. "Be safe, got it?"

Lacking a book to hit him with, she swatted him with her hand. "Get out of here."

He gave her a mock-pouting look, then laughed. As he launched himself into shunpo, he heard her own chuckle echo behind him.

She would be safe – she had the whole division with her, and her own kido skills exceeded his own. He knew that, but a part of him wanted to turn around and dash back to her – keep her safe, like he'd done during the Fake Karakura battle.

Of course, she'd given him an earful for that afterwards, and had told him he was never allowed to do something similar again. Then she hadn't spoken to him for a week…

So, in the interests of preserving harmony, maybe it was better to go get Starrk. Surely the arrancar couldn't complain about being rescued from captivity, right?

Well, maybe he could. Shunsui bounced off one rooftop and landed on another, steering towards the loudest fighting he could hear. But complaining was better than dead.

He landed on another rooftop and peered down the lane to see a tangle of shinigami falling back under an onrushing red horde. Renji was there, Zabimaru lashing wildly in all directions as he fought to keep his squad members safe, but he was just one man, and the oni healed fast from Zabimaru's teeth. Even as Shunsui prepared to flash into the fight, an oni club caught Renji in the ribs, sending him flying.

He smashed through the wall of a house and came up snarling. Then, as he hauled himself out of the rubble, he froze.

Shunsui followed his gaze and arrested himself mid-step. The air whooshed out of his lungs as though he'd been punched in the gut. "Starrk, no. Why?" he whispered.

For there, in the midst of the oni, stood Starrk – unbound and unchained, wielding his zanpakuto with the same lazy grace that he had in the fake Karakura. But not fighting the oni, no – all of his strikes were aimed at the black-clad shinigami fighting to stem the tide.

Shunsui closed his eyes for a long moment. _I guess I know why he didn't return_.

He wanted to weep, but tears could come later. Right now, he had a slaughter to stop.

As he sprang towards the ground, Starrk looked up. A flash of surprise darted across his face, followed by shame and remorse, before settling into an impassive mask. Shunsui gritted his teeth and ran forward.

Starrk, sword at the ready, matched him.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I know I promised more frequent chapters, and I am so sorry that this took so long! I hope you liked it anyway :)


	11. The Definition of Treason

**Chapter 11: The Definition of Treason**

Starrk's first thought, when Shunsui showed up, was _Shit_. He should have expected it, but it still felt like a punch to the gut, unwelcome and brutal.

Underneath, though, something else simmered. As he angled his sword to catch Shunsui's downstroke, a feral kind of pleasure rose up inside him. The clash of blades around them receded into the background as his world narrowed to the pink-clad captain facing him, twin swords glittering in the sunlight.

Shunsui's face was caught between a grimace and a snarl as he attacked, but his zanpakuto was still sealed. That didn't diminish his speed or grace, but elegance alone wouldn't beat Starrk, and Shunsui had to know that. Even without Lilynette…

Starrk lunged in with a feint, and Shunsui sidestepped. "Why?" he hissed, clashing hilt-to-hilt with Starrk.

Starrk glanced over his shoulder at the warlord, who was gleefully wreaking havoc among the assembled shinigami. Did he dare risk breaking cover now?

Shunsui's grey eyes gleamed beneath his sun hat. "Why?" he repeated, twisting to strike at Starrk's torso. Something broken and jagged lay beneath his tone.

"There's a captain I want dead," Starrk told him with a yawn. "Brown hair, little curl over one eye… you know him. And the oni said they'd help, if I helped them in return."

For a second, Shunsui just blinked at him. Then his gaze sharpened. "And what did you promise them for your treachery?"

Starrk vaulted away from a stray blast of kido fire. Shunsui sprang into the air after him, blades whirling in a complicated pattern that left Starrk breathless. He shook his head. "A guide to the inner city."

A frown passed over Shunsui's brow as he resumed his attack. "The inner city?" He blocked one of Starrk's blows, but didn't take the opening Starrk had left. His movements were still graceful, but there was a rote sense to them now, as though he was just going through the motions.

Now, that wouldn't do. Starrk lashed out with a kick to the gut, and Shunsui grunted as air whooshed out of him. "Is that all you've got?" Starrk purred, channeling Grimmjow.

Shunsui's eyes narrowed. For a second, something pinched inside of Starrk, for that look was the captain he'd fought in the false Karakura, the cold warrior who lay behind the genial mask. He'd thought Shunsui had understood the hint…

Then a hint of mischief sparked in Shunsui's gaze. "This should be fun," he murmured, low enough that Starrk had to strain to hear. His blades clattered together into a cross. "When the Flower Wind rages, the Flower God roars. When the Wind of Heaven rages, the God of the Underworld sneers!" Light flashed.

_Oh shit_. On instinct, Starrk reached for Lilynette's power, only to find a void where sparkling laughter should have been. He shifted his feet into a better stance in midair.

Then Shunsui was on him, faster than any shinigami should have been able to move, and Starrk was scrambling to block blow after blow from those heavy black scimitars. Each one crept closer and closer to his skin, sending adrenaline pounding through his body as he returned the strikes. Heat shuddered through him.

Heat, and arousal, he realized a second later, as he and Shunsui clashed chest-to-chest. He could smell the sake on Shunsui's breath, taste the faint flower perfume of his zanpakuto, and, for a second, his gaze drifted to Shunsui's neck.

A slash across his thigh brought him back to himself. Blood seeped out of the shallow cut, and he sprang backwards, charging a cero as he went.

Shunsui's eyes widened as the blast of blue fire rocketed past his head. His pupils were blown wide, Starrk noted as he followed the blast in with a z-shaped cut of his katana, and his breathing was a bit too fast.

Lightning darted down Starrk's spine as Shunsui wet his lips. "Not fair," the shinigami breathed, retaliating with his own kido. The golden chains wrapped tight around Starrk for a split second before he flexed his power, shattering them into dozens of shards. "So not fair."

This was not what Starrk should be thinking about, and he knew it. Shunsui might not actually be his enemy at the moment, but he needed to keep up the pretense for a bit longer – at least until the oni reached the inner city, retrieved whatever they wanted, and went on their way. Thinking about biting him… no. Off the table. He didn't even know if Shunsui would be interested in, well, that. Or more.

_Or… dammit_. Shunsui was a shinigami, a captain no less. And Starrk was no expert in courtship – it wasn't like he'd ever had much of a chance to practice.

_For all you know, shinigami do things completely differently_. He grimaced. Why was this suddenly top of his mind? Yes, Shunsui looked like a demon come to life as he spun and blocked and slashed, a gorgeous demon with that incongruous pink kimono fluttering from his shoulders, but that was no excuse for getting distracted.

Then again, Shunsui also seemed a bit distracted, and Starrk could hear his heart speed up every time they clashed…

On a whim, he locked hilts with Shunsui once more, bringing his full strength to bear to force the blade down. The move, not-so-coincidentally, brought Starrk's chest an inch away from Shunsui's.

Shunsui's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Starrk…" he murmured, making no move to disengage. "What are you playing at here?"

Starrk breathed in Shunsui's scent of sake and sweat and flowers before shoving hard. The captain, off-balance, stumbled backwards, and Starrk felt a shark-like grin slip over his mouth. "Having fun, taicho?"

This had to be how Grimmjow felt whenever he fought – Starrk had never understood the feline arrancar's love of battle, the way he'd walk away from every fight as though his veins were on fire, but now it made sense. And, curse it all, he still wanted to bite the infuriating shinigami in front of him. Sink his teeth into that tan skin, taste copper and salt, feel teeth and nails marking him in return…

_Stop it. Focus_. Fighting surrounded them, filling the air with yells and the clatter of blades and the reek of blood and scorched flesh – he had to focus on the mission.

But, as he clashed with Shunsui once more, his brain seemed determined to throw up roadblocks. Howling, low and longing, filled the back of his mind – a lone wolf calling out to potential pack mates, or maybe just potential mates. And, as he clashed with Shunsui once more, the howling redoubled, taking on an eager tone.

Then a harsh voice filled the battlefield. "Freeze."

Fiery power blasted through the air, reiatsu strong enough to strike Starrk like a physical blow. On the ground below him, shinigami crumpled, while their oni foes fell to their knees. The oni warlord swayed on her feet. "What is this?"

Yamamoto strode down the cobblestone street as though a red carpet had been laid for him. "Drop your weapons if you want to live."

Shunsui lowered his blades, which transformed back into a daisho pair that he slipped into his obi. "Head captain." He descended from the air where he'd been fighting Starrk without a single glance at the arrancar, but Starrk could feel the tension filling his reiatsu. Worry drifted there, too, something sharp and shivery that wrapped around Starrk for a split second before Shunsui yanked his energy back under his skin.

Yamamoto didn't bother to address his wayward captain. Instead, his burning gaze fell on the oni warlord, who pushed her shoulders back and sneered at him. "Was wondering when you'd get your ass out of your ivory tower."

Yamamoto glowered at her for a long moment. Then, with a curl of his lips, he held his fist high. "I assume you are here in search of this."

Starrk peered at the head captain. A bone necklace dangled from his fingers – no different, in basic form, than the jewelry that adorned many of the oni fighters. But a void yawned within it, and he recoiled before he could stop himself. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that it was something like the strange bauble Aizen had been so obsessed with. What had he called it? The Ho… Hogyoku?

The oni's eyes glinted with fury. "You have no right to touch that."

"And you have no right to rampage through my city." Yamamoto raked his gaze over the trembling oni, ignoring the shinigami sprawled beside them. Scorn filled his reiatsu. "I believe we are even."

"So, what, you're here to give it back?" The oni stretched out a hand. "Give it to us, and we will never darken these foul streets again." She spat on the stones.

Yamamoto's reiatsu pulsed higher. Shunsui sucked in a gasp, worry twisting his face as he stared at the black-clad bodies lying in the street. "Soutaicho, your spiritual pressure?" He took a step forward, and Starrk could feel flower-scented reiatsu rise to counter the heat. The downed shinigami gasped.

Something in Starrk winced at that. He'd heard those dying-rabbit sounds too many times to count, usually seconds before yet another hollow crumbled into dust and blew away on Hueco Mundo's winds. Did Yamamoto realize what he was doing?

Not that Starrk cared about the shinigami. But… well, Shunsui cared, didn't he? His shoulders were stiff and his reiatsu was sunk deep into his skin – nowhere near the strength he would need to counter the pressure emanating from the head captain. His steps wobbled ever-so-slightly as he approached Yamamoto. "Head captain, please, look around. You're killing them."

"Do not make things worse for yourself, Kyoraku-san," Yamamoto intoned without looking away from the oni warlord. "We will discuss your punishment presently."

"You're killing them," Shunsui repeated, a thread of desperation entering his voice. Starrk moved towards him despite himself.

Yamamoto didn't so much as flinch. "You say you came for this?" he asked the warlord, hefting the necklace higher.

Her eyes flashed red. "Do you even know what you hold, shinigami?"

Kido fire flickered to life around his fist. "An abomination." His jaw tightened, scars pulling across leathery skin, as he stared at the thing. "You will never have it." Fire surged.

As the flame engulfed the bones, the oni roared and lunged for the head captain. Yamamoto's blade flicked out, running her through the gut before she could halt her charge, but she just laughed. It was a wet, bubbling sound, followed by a squelch as she pulled herself free. "You…" Blue blood poured down her legs and over the hand she pressed over the wound. "Ours, shinigami scum. You… stole it." More squelching – Starrk could see her skin pulling together, guts oozing back into place. "And you don't even know what it does."

"What is it?" Shunsui held out a hand. "Please. If we don't need to fight…"

"Enough, Kyoraku," Yamamoto barked.

But the oni had turned her attention to the pink-clad captain. "Life," she snarled, fangs glinting in the sunlight. "It is life, shinigami scum."

"And, if we give it back, you will leave here? Leave us in peace?"

"Enough!" Yamamoto roared. A tooth cracked in the necklace. The bones gleamed white underneath the swirling red-gold flames, but Starrk could see the first hints of ash creeping up them. Whatever the power in the necklace was, it couldn't withstand the maelstrom raging around it.

"Life," the oni repeated. "What would you do, shinigami, if your children did not wake, did not rise, were no more than the beasts in the field when they did stir? Give. It. Back!" And she lunged for Yamamoto once more, followed by every oni able to move.

Fire exploded in a ring around Yamamoto. The reek of scorched hair and meat filled the air, along with a horrible crackling as blackened flesh cracked and bled and pulled back together. Shunsui flung up a kido shield over half the street, but shinigami cries rose above the oni's guttural howls as Yamamoto's fires burned through his own forces.

More shields materialized, along with white-clad men and women. The rest of the captains had arrived.

Starrk sank his teeth into his lower lip. This was not his fight – neither side would welcome him with open arms, when this was all over.

But, kami, did so many more have to die here? These were not glorious deaths – there was no honor in being scorched alive by your own commander, and little in burning alive at the hands of an enemy you couldn't touch. The smell of death was different here – wet and hot and nauseating, rather than dusty and full of regretful whispers – but the end result was the same. And he was so, so tired of it.

A murmur rose in the back of his head. _Big meanie_, Lilynette's memory snapped. He could practically see her glaring at Yamamoto. _He's a big meanie, and he's not playing fair_. Sly satisfaction entered her tone. _No one's paying attention to us right now_…

He shook his head, banishing the voice, but she was right. The captains were scrambling to shield the street so shinigami wearing small packs could haul the injured and dying out of the way; the oni were thrashing forward despite the flames to get closer to Yamamoto. Even Shunsui's attention was elsewhere as energy poured from him into his shield, a glowing blue thing that quivered under the force of Yamamoto's rage. If Starrk chose…

He cast a glance at Shunsui's back. His straw hat was smoking, while ash marred the hem of his pink kimono; his face was a mask of concentration and sorrow as he stared at Yamamoto.

Starrk didn't care about the shinigami or the oni, per se. But he did care about that captain, didn't he?

_Besides, wouldn't it be fun to tweak big meanie's nose?_

With a burst of reiatsu, Starrk pushed off of the air and flashed towards Yamamoto. The head captain's eyes widened, and he swung his blade up at Starrk, but Starrk twisted to the side and continued his dash. One steps, two, three… one hand closed around the necklace as the other struck with full force to the pressure point in Yamamoto's bicep.

Fire clamped jagged jaws around him. Orange filled his vision, heat searing his skin through his hierro, and he yelped with the pain. His reiatsu surged in instinctive reaction, pushing away the flames, which roared like a living thing as they sought to devour him once more.

Then the speed of his flight carried him through, into a somersault that left him sprawling at the feet of the oni warlord. Air fled his body as his back smashed into the cobblestones, and his lungs spasmed as he sucked in a breath. "Here." He thrust the necklace at the oni. "Enjoy."

As her fingers closed around it, Yamamoto's zanpakuto materialized out of the smoke. The warlord caught the blade in a meaty fist, grunting as it dug deep into her palm. "Hollow. I…" She spun out of the way of a fireball aimed at her face.

"Arrancar." Yamamoto's voice was harsh as he stepped out of the flames. With a jerk, he pulled his zanpakuto back to his side, flicking blue blood off of it as it went.

Starrk scrambled to his feet. "Look, it wasn't yours, was it? Do you really have to murder everyone in the area to prove a point?"

"You will let their scourge continue?" Yamamoto's scarred brows drew together. He drew in a breath, and his reiatsu rose with it, until the warlord grunted. Starrk steeled himself against the onslaught, but it felt like leaning into a hurricane, fury threatening to blow him away at any second.

Then a hand landed on the small of his back. "Yes, soutaicho." Shunsui stepped up. "They deserve a chance at life, just as we do."

* * *

Yamamoto's eyes darkened, and Shunsui sucked in a breath. "I have let you get away with far too much, but this insolence is past the line. You invite an espada here, break out of lawful imprisonment, and now defy me here? Enough, Kyoraku. You are no longer a captain here. Give…"

"Soutaicho, please." Juushiro, white haori streaked with grey ash, landed out of shunpo, and Shunsui leaned into his comforting touch. "This is not the way to achieve peace. Haven't we fought enough wars?"

Shunsui reached out to tangle his fingers between Juushiro's. Then, on impulse, he grabbed Starrk's hand too, and prayed that the espada didn't flinch away.

A spark of joy raced through him when Starrk squeezed back, but sorrow quickly overran it. How many of his soldiers were dying as they spoke? Yamamoto's spiritual pressure was a heavy weight on his shoulders, and, despite his best attempts to keep his own energy contained, he had to release some of it just to breathe. How many of his soldiers was he, himself, killing?

"Ukitake, I should have known." Yamamoto shook his head. "You are both children. I…"

A pop of air interrupted him as Unohana, radiating a coolly furious spiritual pressure of her own, flashed in. Crimson blood covered her hands and coated the hem of her white haori. "Yamamoto-san, do you realize how many shinigami are dying now from your flames? My division cannot even go to their aide because they cannot breathe under the pressure. This has gone too far."

The flames surrounding them all faltered, then surged back. "None of you understand. If we do not keep control of that…"

The oni warlord spat on the ground. "What, shinigami scum? You'll see us wiped out?" Her voice was hoarse, and Shunsui could see the skin on her shoulders melting and reforming under the intense heat and pressure, but she stood with spine straight and eyes flashing. The necklace, clenched in her fist, trembled as she spoke.

Juushiro coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Please, soutaicho. Listen to us."

Shunsui squeezed his hand tightly. _Don't you dare hurt yourself now, Juu-chan_.

"I will not let our ancestral enemies regain their most powerful weapon!" Yamamoto snarled.

Starrk arched an eyebrow. "I thought that's what I was?"

For a moment, Yamamoto blinked at the arrancar, and the flames eased a hair. Then a rough cackle split the tension. "What, we can't have two enemies? The more fights, the better!" Zaraki strode out of the flames, jagged sword dripping blood in his hand. "But that don't look like much of a weapon to me. What's the big deal?"

Shunsui's fingers tightened around both Starrk and Juushiro. He was not scared of Zaraki, but, if the vicious captain chose to take Yamamoto's side in this… well, he had no desire for another civil war. Aizen's betrayal was bad enough.

A twinge of pain shot through him. He was in Aizen's position now, wasn't he? Turning against the head captain, betraying him?

_But for a good cause_, Katen Kyokotsu murmured, voice full of irony. _I'm sure Aizen thought he was doing the right thing, too_.

_You are not helping_. Though she did have a bit of a point… after all, the oni had invaded the Seireitei, not the other way around.

The warlord cleared her throat with a sound like someone chewing gravel. "Fool." Her lips twisted. "This is no weapon. It gives life – names – to our young. Without those names…" Her shoulders lifted in a painful shrug, skin tearing and blackening. New skin, bright red and leathery, rose beneath the crumbling strips.

"Great. So can they have it, so we can get back to fighting?" An eager smile stretched across Zaraki's face. "Don't worry, head captain, we'll drive them from the city soon enough, weapon or no weapon."

"You can try," the warlord sneered.

Starrk ran his free hand through his hair. "I thought you were going to leave after you got your thing?" He heaved a sigh.

She flashed a dangerous grin at him. "Who am I to turn down a challenge? Besides. We do owe you a death."

"Ah. About that." Starrk shot a guilty glance at Shunsui. "You want to kill him, go ahead, but I think he's already locked up somewhere and pretty de-fanged."

For a second, the oni's face was a thundercloud, and Shunsui tensed. But then she barked a laugh. "Well played, hollow. So." She turned back to face Yamamoto and Zaraki. "Shall we?" Bloodthirsty hunger swelled around her.

Yamamoto's own reiatsu flared in response. "Very well." He took a deep breath. "Reduce all creation to ash, Ryujin Jakka!"

"Stop!" Unohana flung out a hand as Shunsui and Juushiro grabbed for their own blades. "Soutaicho, you cannot do this! You will kill all of them!" Her arm swept in an arc, a silent kido clearing the smoke from the air.

Horror closed Shunsui's throat as he took in the full devastation of the battlefield. Black-clad bodies everywhere, mingled with the bright red of the oni, both covered in ash. Some of the oni still fought to rise, their regeneration propelling them back to their feet despite the gasps issuing from their throats, but the shinigami lay like the dead – and many of them were.

Somewhere behind Yamamoto, Renji's red hair whipped through the air as he staggered to a fallen soldier, hosted them over his shoulder, and, faltering, flash-stepped away. Hitsugaya's ice formed a massive wall around another cluster of dying souls, but the young captain's face was dead white and his hands trembled around his blade. Byakuya was a flicker of motion between the bodies, a quicksilver version of Renji's rescue efforts, while several of the vizards formed their own bulwark against Yamamoto's flames.

Yamamoto gave the battlefield a disdainful glance, then turned his fury on Unohana. "Must you, too, betray me? Is there no loyalty left?"

She held out her hands. "Please, Yamamoto-san. See what you are doing. Let the oni retreat." Her gaze fell on the oni warlord. "And, yes, you must retreat. We need no more bloodshed here."

"Aww," Zaraki grumbled. Unohana glared at him.

The warlord spat once more. "Doesn't seem like your leader's very interested in letting us go."

Unohana turned her calm gaze back to Yamamoto. "Soutaicho?"

She said nothing more, but, after far too many moments, the fires wreathing Ryujin Jakka faded back into the blade. Yamamoto's lips twisted as though he'd bitten into a lemon. "I see this is a coup."

"No, head captain." Unohana abandoned her position at Juushiro's side to catch his elbow. "Come. I believe we have much to discuss."

As she and Yamamoto vanished into shunpo, the pressure filling the air vanished. Shunsui sucked in his first deep breath in far too long, then let it out in a sigh. So many bodies, and most weren't stirring, even now that Yamamoto was gone – the Seireitei had paid a dreadful price in the last few days.

"It could have been worse," Juushiro murmured, stifling a cough. At Shunsui's worried glance, he frowned. "I'm fine."

Later, Shunsui promised himself. When his lover wasn't quite so tense, he'd check in again. But, for now, he accepted the half-lie. "I know." If Yamamoto had chosen to unleash his full strength, or even half of it… well, Shunsui and Juushiro hadn't fared so well the last time they'd clashed with the old man, had they? And, if it had turned into captain against captain again…

Juushiro's hand took his once more. "He's getting more reactionary. And paranoid."

_And hidebound_, Shunsui completed silently. "Unohana can help." _I hope_.

When Juushiro said nothing more, Shunsui forced his usual grin back onto his face. "A problem for another time. Let's not borrow trouble – we have plenty here."

A quiet cough came from behind them. "I should go." Starrk glanced around, and Shunsui followed his gaze. None of the high-ranking shinigami had moved towards him yet, but they were all watching him out of the corner of their eyes as they began the painful cleanup. The oni, meanwhile, were staring at him with unreadable expressions as they, too, gathered their dead in preparation for retreat.

Shunsui's heart contracted. Had he misread the espada, then? He'd thought, during that battle, that there'd been something there. Some spark, or heat, or… _Or, just my imagination_. He grimaced. "Is that what you truly want?"

He wouldn't blame Starrk if the answer was yes – this was a mess all around, and the espada had no real part in it. But Starrk hesitated, and a bubble of hope rose in Shunsui. "Then again, if you want to stay… at least for a bit…" A genuine smile crept across his face. "I'd like that."

Starrk lifted his eyebrows. "Truly." Again, his gaze raked the battlefield, taking in the suspicious looks and the way the nearest shinigami had their hands on their swords.

"Oh, it won't be any worse than convincing the divisions to accept the vizards." Shunsui smirked. "Are you really that different? You just came at it from different directions."

Kensei, in the process of lifting Byakuya's sixth seat onto a litter, snorted at that. "You're delusional." He set the kid on the litter for the members of the fourth to pull away, then eyed Starrk up and down. "Though I guess you got a point. As long as he's not about to eat us all."

"He," Starrk drawled, "Can speak for himself. And no." Something old and weary entered his eyes. "I have had more than enough fighting and death for a dozen lifetimes."

To Shunsui's shock, Kensei clapped the espada on the shoulder. Starrk flinched. "Been there," the vizard said gruffly.

Shunsui held out a hand. "See? If you want to." He held his breath. _Please, Starrk_.

Starrk eyed Shunsui's hand for several seconds, or maybe an eternity. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Once again, I have to apologize for the slow update! I'm afraid that another writing project captured my attention, and ended up evolving into a much longer story than I originally expected. So, for the handful of you following this, I am so sorry this took so long. But I hope you enjoyed it!


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